


How To: Self-Deception for Dummies

by tired angry egg (Mirabelle)



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Humour, Implied Yadong, M/M, Multiple Pov, Please don't take this seriously I just wanted to write something dumb and light-hearted, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Stupidity, Sungjong is the only sane one, The Occasional Dirty Joke, The relationship not the korean word, Woogyu are a side-pairing, crack and fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-23 06:38:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8317648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirabelle/pseuds/tired%20angry%20egg
Summary: The one time Sungyeol and Myungsoo thought they were playing a genius practical joke on their friends and ended up tricking themselves into being disgustingly in love with each other.Occupational hazards; can't help them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for a while (still not done, college is kicking my ass) and I wanted to start posting it today. It'll only have 3-4 chapters maximum but I'm not sure which one yet, so I'm leaving it as a question mark.
> 
> Shocker, I write for fandoms that aren't BTS (though how well, I can't guarantee). I'm not giving up on BTS or my previous fics, but I wanted to pay homage to my eternal kings and first K-Pop group, Infinite, who had an amazing comeback, and to the ship that introduced me to K-Pop fanfiction in the first place.
> 
> Don't take this too seriously, enjoy and don't throw rotten tomatoes at me, I guess?

Lee Sungyeol is a simple man, with simple needs, who takes pleasure in the simple joys of life. Sipping on his Americano early in the morning—though not early enough for him to call it ass o’clock and being subjected to the daunting task of waking up his roommate. Lounging in bed and marathoning the dramas on his to-watch list—and cussing out his roommate when he pokes fun at him for it. Spending his days back home helping with chores, teasing his younger brother and spoiling Aga with love and affection. Finishing up one of his long-time projects after countless hours and sleepless nights of slaving away at his desks —and, as a bonus, receiving positive feedback on it.

Among those, Sungyeol has a deep appreciation (and, in his humble opinion, pure skill) for practical jokes.

“Oh, there’s Sunggyu-hyung.”

There are five of them sitting down for lunch. Opposite of him, Woohyun— whom Sungyeol had known since before he’d started university and who was responsible for claiming the table as _theirs_ —is trying to sneak a couple fries off of Hoya’s plate, having already finished his own; Hoya smacks his hand away without even looking up from his phone. To his left, his roommate and best friend Myungsoo is preoccupied with the only thing that takes precedence over food, his camera, pressing buttons that Sungyeol hasn’t got the first clue about. Next to Hoya, Dongwoo is handing a dejected Woohyun some of his own fries with one hand and energetically waving to someone with the other.

“Hyung!” he calls out to the approaching figure of Kim Sunggyu, who waves half-heartedly in return.

Snorting, Sungyeol elbows Myungsoo in the side, getting a glare in return before the other man turns back to his camera. He tries again.

“What?” Myungsoo hisses, without looking at him.

He nods in the direction of their new arrival—with another jab aimed at Myungsoo’s ribs when he notices he still isn’t paying attention. Finally, Myungsoo lifts his head to look at the other end of the table and, though his face remains impassive thanks to years of practice, he hears him choke back a laugh. _‘Really?’_ he mouths, eyes twinkling with mirth, and Sungyeol only shrugs in response.

Kim Sunggyu sits down on his usual chair, his tray packed with the exact same dishes as the day before (and the day before that, and all the way to the day when they’d met him), and greets them in the same faux disinterested manner he does every day. The only thing amiss is that the mussed up mop of light brown on his head has turned a vivid shade of red overnight, in great contrast to the green sweater he’s sporting.

“Nice look,” Sungyeol decides to comment with feigned innocence. “But Christmas isn’t for another two months.”

Instead of getting flustered or giving one of his signature glares, Sunggyu keeps his eyes on the sandwich he’d picked out and says, sounding vaguely dead inside: “Well, I figured I could prepare in advance.”

“Didn’t you have anything else to wear today?” asks Hoya, who finally deemed the commotion at the table worthy of abandoning his phone.

The eldest shakes his head. “Laundry day. I didn’t want to risk freezing my ass off if I’d gone for a short sleeve.”

“Ah.”

It’s only a manner of minutes until Myungsoo cracks in a flurry of snorted laughter that makes his entire body shake. “Sorry—I just—Hyung, you look like an overripe tomato.” Sungyeol, the one responsible for the existence of said overripe tomato, stifles his giggles behind the palm of his hand.

“Thanks, Myungsoo,” he deadpans. “It sure means a lot coming from you.”

“It’s not _that_ bad,” Woohyun hums, reaching out to brush his hand through the newly-dyed hair. “’Sides, my Gyu-Gyu looks handsome no matter what.”

Almost like someone’s flipped a switch, Hoya cringes and turns to glare at him. “Don’t.”

“Please don’t,” Sunggyu seconds, face colouring to match the hue of his hair and sounding like an odd mixture of disgusted and disgustingly fond (Sungyeol, and the rest of his friends sans maybe Dongwoo, can relate to the former). “It’s too early for grease.”

“ _Sure_ , keep pretending you hate it. You’re fooling no one,” his boyfriend rolls his eyes and, leaning over Hoya with a pout on his face: “Dongwoo, can I have more of your fries? These two hurt my feelings.”

“Don’t use us as an excuse to exploit Dongwoo-hyung’s kindness,” Hoya says, gently pushing him back into his seat, at the same time Sunggyu scrunches his nose up with a grumbled: “You know I don’t like being called that in public.”

Dongwoo’s rich, genuine laughter echoes through the cafeteria and, despite Hoya’s continuous protests and furrowed eyebrows, he nudges a couple more fries onto Woohyun’s tray.

Conversation continues to be carried out without another mention of the fact that Sunggyu‘s hair is probably visible from outer space, without the owner of the hair accusingly pointing at him and Myungsoo and demanding to know who was responsible for this atrocity then threatening to kill both of them regardless, without any further teasing comments and barely suppressed laughter. Even Myungsoo stopped chuckling, choosing instead to give Sungyeol a questioning look that he returns with the same amount of confusion.

He clears his throat. “Okay, is nobody going to ask? I mean,” he gestures in Sunggyu’s direction, trying to keep the smirking to a minimum. “What’s brought this on?”

“Don’t play dumb, Lee Sungyeol,” is the answer he receives, complete with a frown. “I knew you were up to something when you dropped by since you were ‘in the area’ and ‘suddenly’ had to use the toilet,” Sunggyu lazily lifts his hands up for air quotes. “Unfortunately, I have things to do like studying and an actual job, so I couldn’t pull apart the entire bathroom and see what you did but I kinda saw this coming.”

He purses his lips, tugging at a strand of hair. “Though I guess I pictured another colour.”

Sungyeol’s mouth snaps shut in something he can only describe as disappointment combined with a smidge of disbelief because Sunggyu looks ridiculous with bright red hair and he’s threatened to dismember him for less—like the time he honest to God _accidentally_ spilled coffee on his favourite but very ugly button-up, though he’d very much done a favour to the world. Seeing Sunggyu calmly accept this hideous new development is almost surreal.

(In his dumbfounded state, he also misses the way Woohyun mutters “At least it wasn’t hair removal cream” and is quickly silenced by a pinch to his side and Hoya’s pointed ‘ _Don’t give him ideas, idiot’_ look.)

“Okay, then, where are the death threats?” he finally manages to ask, a little petulant. “And what’s with the lack of reaction? I mean, come _on_ , if you gave him some eyeliner he could pass as that guy from Naruto.”

(“Gaara,” pipes up Myungsoo, official anime connoisseur and the sole reason why Sungyeol is even familiar enough with the show to make that comparison. He is politely ignored.)

A couple girls pass by their table with poorly concealed giggles and, whether that is because of the eyesore that is Sunggyu’s hair or Sungyeol’s comment just now, he thinks it’s enough to prove his point.

“See?”

“Okay, look,” Sunggyu puts down his sandwich, heaving a sigh. “Sungyeol, I’ve got like fifty pages to read by tomorrow and three papers to write by Friday and my boss’s been giving me the crappiest shifts all week. Do I like the hair?” he glares, tugging at a strand of his fringe. “No, it looks like the biggest mistake of my life. But right now I’ve got better things to worry about.”

 “Also, this is the fifth time you dyed someone’s hair as a prank—second time you did it to _me_ ,” another sigh. “Don’t you have better things to do?”

“I—“ Sungyeol’s mouth opens and closes, and though there was no argument to speak of, he kind of feels like he’s just lost one.

His one and only supporter, Myungsoo, has conveniently went back to tweaking with his photo camera (Sungyeol _knows_ he can see the dirty look he’s giving him, but he doesn’t acknowledge it; the traitor). Sunggyu, obnoxiously red hair and all, has also started eating again and Hoya’s attention is back to his phone; the remaining two have randomly engaged in a discussion about bears for whatever reasons that he’s not going to ask about. Then it dawns on him.

“Where’s our freshman? I bet Sungjongie would get a kick out of this.”

“He’s not having lunch with us today,” Woohyun responds, popping another fry into his mouth. “Said he’s got a lot of work to do and he doesn’t have time to slack off like ‘some other people he knows’” he scoffs. “He’s getting cheeky with us. I told you we’re cutting him too much slack.”

Dongwoo frowns. “How is eating lunch considered slacking?”

“Hell if I know, ask Sungjong.”

Feeling more than a little bit wronged, Sungyeol glares at a bread roll on his tray until Myungsoo pokes his head in his field of vision and says: “Stop sulking—and if you don’t plan on eating that, you might as well give it to me.”

Sungyeol pops the entire thing in his mouth and, once he’s swallowed, blows him a raspberry for good measure.

* * *

That evening, back in their dorm room, Myungsoo sits through exactly seven of Sungyeol’s exaggerated ‘ _Ask me what’s wrong’_ sighs before he gives in.

“What’s up, Yeol?” he asks, turning around in his spinning chair to face his best friend.

About half an hour prior to this, Sungyeol had sat down in the middle of their shared room and surrounded himself with sketches and floor plans that look just as complete as the first time Myungsoo had seen them. The half-hearted way in which the other is twirling a pencil around in his hand is just an indicator of the fact he wasn’t even trying to get any work done.

“Just thinking.” Though silence follows, Myungsoo is already making himself comfortable, folding his hands on top of the chair’s back and propping his chin up on them. Naturally, Sungyeol continues: “I talked to Dongwoo-hyung today, after lunch.”

“Okay…?”

“He said my pranks were becoming routine,” Sungyeol slams the pencil down onto a piece of paper. “ _Routine._ ”

He groans, throwing his head back until it hits the edge of his bed. “Myung, if even _Dongwoo-hyung_ is getting bored of my pranks, then this is it. I’m done for.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean—“

“No, but, what if they’re right?” there’s a drop in Sungyeol’s tone. He rubs both hands over his face. “Maybe I’m supposed to grow out of this and actually focus on school. I’ve got a project due next week that’s nowhere near finished and instead of working on that, I’m dicking around with hair dye and trying to make my friends look like idiots.”

“Hey, you shouldn’t give up something you enjoy just because you flopped once,” says Myungsoo, climbing out of his chair so he could take a seat on the floor next to his best friend. “Everyone’s gotta have some misses here and there.”

Sungyeol groans, long and drawn out. “Myungsoo, that’s great life advice, but it only proves that I should probably sober up and focus on my actual work. I mean, I’m in my twenties, in college, and I’m moping over what? The fact that my jokes aren’t funny anymore?

“I always do this—take stupid things seriously and end up ditching my actual responsibilities. I almost refused to go to college for that acting gig that ended up being a scam, and now instead of finishing this floor design, I’m whining over kiddy shit.”

A moment of silence. “I think you’re making it deeper than it is,” Myungsoo offers, cautiously.

“Maybe,” he shrugs. His eyes are burning holes into the unfinished floor plan. “Or maybe I’m hopeless and I should grow the fuck up.”

There was one other time when Myungsoo had seen _that_ look on his face. It was their first year of university, back when Sungyeol hadn’t carved his place as The Best Friend into his heart and was just the nice, but vaguely childish and overdramatic roommate Myungsoo had ended up being stuck with. An aspiring actor and drama enthusiast, Sungyeol had somehow ended up taking interior design in college because, as he put it, it was the only practical option that appealed to him. Until then, Myungsoo had never met another person who was more enthusiastic about proper lamp placement or sketching plans that, to him at least, looked more like abstract art than the layout of a building.

Until he got his first bit of negative feedback.

To this day, Myungsoo has no idea what the entire thing was about—the explanation had one too many technical terms for him, a mere mortal—and only remembers the part where a dejected Sungyeol stormed inside the room and ungracefully landed face-down on his bed, laying there motionless until Myungsoo went over to get the story out of him.

“Maybe I’m just not cut out for this,” Sungyeol mumbled, voice slurred by the beer the younger had pushed into his hands as a meager peace offering. “Maybe I’m just not cut out for anything. I’m just gonna fail at life until, I don’t know—someone finds me dead in a ditch or something. Fell in there tripping over my own incompetence.”

“Probably, yeah,” Myungsoo had agreed, prompting the other to look at him in confusion. “If you keep up that attitude, that is.”

“And what do _you_ think I should do, genius?”

So they talked. Sungyeol told him about his failed acting stint while Myungsoo shared the thrilling, drama-worthy tale of how much his parents had protested to him wanting to become a photographer (“My mom called my grandparents and tried to get them to guilt-trip me. It got ugly”). Then they talked about their families, about some shared interests they’d found, about the body part they could probably live without and other things drunk students talk about at hours when they should both be asleep.

The outcome of that had been that: the next day, a hungover Myungsoo successfully managed to cheer his friend up by sneaking fake bugs into Woohyun’s lunch and letting him scream to his hearts’ content, and a week after that, Sungyeol received full marks on the assignment he redid from scratch.

So, Myungsoo lets his head drop onto Sungyeol’s shoulder and says: “What if I swipe Hoya’s phone and we change all his contacts to, dunno, plant names?”

Sungyeol gives him a look. “Did you even _listen_ to what I just said?”

“Yeah, and I think you need a pick me up,” he explains, nodding at the papers strewn about the room. “It’s not like you’re gonna make any progress by moping around. So, Sunggyu-hyung calling you predictable bothers you? Let’s do something to show him up.”

“Sometimes I really wonder if you’re my best friend or if you’re only trying to get me killed so you can have the room for yourself,” Sungyeol mutters, but the hint of a smile plays at his lips.

Unabashedly and feeling like his heart is at least ten times lighter, Myungsoo grins back. “Don’t be stupid. They’d just give me another roommate and I’d have to get rid of that one, too. Too much hassle.”

“Lazy ass,” he shrugs his shoulder so Myungsoo’s head falls off, but at least he’s full on smiling. Then, “But that’s not a good idea. Hoya’s practically glued to his phone lately so he’d notice if it was missing—also you’d have to pry it from his cold, dead hands.”

But Myungsoo’s brain is already going a mile an hour. “Glued, huh? Do you think we could find a way to say, handcuff two of them together and give them a treasure hunt for the key?”

Though the smile was reassuring enough, he absolutely _revels_ in the way Sungyeol guffaws, mouth open wide enough that his gums are showing, eyes no longer empty but filled with mirth and a hint of mischief. If Myungsoo didn’t think the moment was inappropriate, he would whip out his camera and capture this for posterity.

“Kim Myungsoo, you _are_ trying to get us killed.”

“Not exactly trying but yeah, might be a side effect.”

“Who would we even handcuff together?” chuckling, Sungyeol leans more comfortably against the bed.

“Well, Sungjong with anyone could be funny but also a safe ticket to being smothered in our sleep,” he muses, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he runs through the possibilities. “I don’t hate Dongwoo-hyung enough for this and you don’t either.”

“Yeah. Also anyone but Woohyun and Sunggyu-hyung,” Sungyeol makes a face so profoundly disturbed that it actually makes him choke on air. “For all we know, they’d probably get off on it.”

“You just had to go and say that,” he mutters, face contorting into a cringe of his own. “But yeah, the last thing those two need is handcuffs. Hey, remember when they got together?”

“Which part? I kind of tried to forget the entire thing, actually.”

“The part where they were all ‘Nothing’s going to change, guys’ and then we had to sit through them being attached to the hip, Woohyun’s ass-grabs and the horrible nicknames,” he pauses, just to shake off the mental image. “I mean I’m as happy for them as any of us but they’re so obnoxiously married sometimes that I wish they could see them….”

The rest of the sentence trails off because Sungyeol is clearly not listening anymore; he’s staring off into the distance with _that_ look on his face. Half-scrunched eyebrows, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth and stare so vacant Myungsoo can actually imagine the gears turning inside his head. He nudges his arm.

“You have an idea, don’t you?”

Sungyeol turns to him, toothy grin in place. “Yeah. No handcuffs involved though, so it might save us a lot of trouble.”

“Wanna share? I don’t care how much people like to joke about it—I can’t actually read your mind, Sungyeol.”

“Okay, okay. Here’s what we could do…”

* * *

Nam Woohyun blinks. Once. A couple more times. An additional few, just to make sure that he’s actually seeing this right:

Sungyeol and Myungsoo are both sprawled on the former’s bed; or rather, Sungyeol is lying down on it while Myungsoo is on top of him, hands placed on either side of his head and body pressed against the other man’s. Their faces, close together and previously obscured by Myungsoo’s hair, come into view when they around to face Woohyun, still standing frozen in the doorway. The first to react is Sungyeol who, sputtering, pushes Myungsoo off him so the other hits the floor with an ‘oomph’. In spite of this, the younger continues to gape at Woohyun—eyes wide, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and hair messed up like he’s ran through a windstorm. Upon further inspection, Woohyun notices that all the buttons of his shirt are undone and—to his horror—his jeans unfastened. Upon even further inspection and horror, he comes to the conclusion that Sungyeol’s shirt is _non-existent_ and the look on his face is one of dread.

He also hears Myungsoo, currently working on doing up his shirt, hiss “I thought you said we have time until he shows up” before a red-faced Sungyeol shushes him and hurriedly pulls on a t-shirt.

“What… the fresh hell is going on here?” he finally chokes out, tightening his grip on the DVD he’s supposed to return to Sungyeol, sole reason why he was even in the dorm room in the first place.

Myungsoo bites his lip. “This isn’t—“

“Myung, don’t,” it’s Sungyeol that interrupts him, sighing heavily as he sits upright on his bed. “I think it’s time to explain.”

“But…”

They share some sort of meaningful look that Woohyun is sure he shouldn’t be witness to; but he is, and he is incredibly confused. “Please do. Explain,” he says, making the other two break eye contact. “I’m waiting here.”

A few minutes, some explanations and a bunch of awkward silences later, he’s still trying to make sense of the situation.

“So, let me get this straight. You two,” he gestures between the two of them. “Have been dating behind our backs for how much time now?”

“We started in the summer so… July?” Sungyeol looks at his boyfriend for confirmation; he nods. “July.”

“You’ve been dating for nearly four months and you didn’t tell me,” he mumbles, tapping a finger against his thigh. “You didn’t tell _any_ of us.”

The _happy couple_ sitting across for him winces; Woohyun doesn’t feel guilty in the slightest. In fact, he continues, even more incredulously:

“Why the hell didn’t you tell any of us? You didn’t seriously think we’d have a problem with it because then I have news for you—“

“It’s not like that.”

“Then _what_?’

He throws his arms up in the air—dramatically, some people would say, but Woohyun thinks it’s more than called for. And combined with the frustration in his tone, it has the desired effect. His friends have gone from worried and slightly awkward to downright guilty, and maybe it’s a little sick for Woohyun to delight in that, but he’s just found out he’s been lied to for months, so he thinks they’re even. Myungsoo isn’t even looking at him, decidedly keeping his head down and his face hidden by bangs.

“We just wanted to make sure we’re doing the right thing and it’s not just a summer fling—spur of the moment and all that, you know,” says Sungyeol, and from the corner of his eye, he sees him reach out to squeeze one of Myungsoo’s hands. If Woohyun wasn’t _furious_ with them, he’d think it’s cute. “If things went south, we would’ve put a stop to it before it affected everyone else. I mean, it’s the least we could do considering we gave you and hyung such a hard time about that when you got together…”

He trails off with an apologetic look, and it almost makes Woohyun let the entire thing go, there and then. Almost.

“Sungyeol, we’ve been friends since _middle school,_ ” he whines instead, complete with a pout, because he doesn’t have an actual comeback—just slightly hurt feelings.

(And a bit of leftover shock from walking in on two of his best friends half naked and about to climb each other, but that’s reasonable.)

“I know, and we planned on telling you. You were the first person we would’ve told—right, Myungsoo?”

When the answer doesn’t come instantaneously, they both turn to stare at him. Myungsoo scratches the back of his head. “Honestly? I’d tell Dongwoo first, but I’m sure Yeol would’ve picked you instead.”

Then Sungyeol goes: “Come on, don’t be like this. I’ll treat you to dinner as an apology—and it won’t be McDonald’s this time.”

Silence settles between them as Woohyun considers his options. He points at Sungyeol. “I’ll hold you to that. There’s a new sushi place I want to check out.”

Shifting to a more comfortable sitting position on his friend’s bed, he gives the two of them an once-over. “So now that I know, are you guys gonna be like… official?”

Sungyeol looks a little overwhelmed as he says: “I guess? I mean, it would be stupid to hide it from everyone else now.”

“Let them all know he’s off-limits,” Myungsoo says with a disturbingly straight face, draping himself over Sungyeol; the other half-heartedly attempts to shove him off, smiling the entire time.

Woohyun finds that simultaneously endearing and annoying.

With a grunt, he pushes himself onto his feet. “Okay, just—don’t forget that you guys owe me my weight in sushi for all the emotional damage I’ve suffered,” his statement is welcomed with two identical eye rolls. “And here’s your DVD.”

He throws it rather unceremoniously in Sungyeol’s direction, grinning when the other flails around yet somehow manages to catch it before it hit him square in the forehead; he glares.

“I already said sorry, offered you dinner, and you still try to kill me. What happened to,” his voice takes on a ridiculous falsetto, “’We’ve been friends since middle school, Sungyeollie’, huh?”

Half-way to the door, Woohyun rolls his eyes. “Don’t be a baby, that would’ve barely bruised at most,” he waves a hand. “I’ll get going now, I told Kibum I won’t be staying long. Have fun and don’t fill me in with the details.”

“See ya,” Sungyeol says like he’s one minute away from outright telling him to get out.

Seconds later, he pokes his head back through the door.

“Don’t forget to use pro—“

This time it’s Myungsoo who calmly responds with “Fuck off” and, with a feigned noise of indignation, Woohyun finally takes his leave.

Being a patient person with manners and a working common sense, he waits until he’s a good couple feet away from his friends’ dorm room before, grinning from ear to ear, he pulls his phone out.

“ _Hey, what’s up?_ ”

“Oh, you know,” Woohyun presses his phone closer as he walks down the hall. “The weather outside’s great. Also I just found out Myungsoo and Sungyeol are exclusively screwing each other—“

” _What?”_

“—and it’s not after Halloween yet so Lee Howon, fork up the cash.”

He doesn’t even bother holding in his gleeful laughter at the choked off sound coming from the speaker; the guy walking past gives him an odd look.

“ _Bullshit_ ,” Hoya finally scoffs, but Woohyun hears the trace of uncertainty in his voice. _“I’ll believe it when I see it.”_

It’s only after he shrugs that (to his embarrassment) he realises the other can’t actually see him. “Fair enough. Ask them to confirm it next time you meet but I’m just giving you practical advice here, you should get the money ready.”

“ _Uh-huh.”_

“Why do you always assume I’m lying?” he grumbles, genuinely irritated. “Do you really have that little faith in me?”

“ _Honestly? Yeah._ ”

Woohyun sputters. “Is this about your last birthday party?” There’s silence on the end of the line. “Oh my God, it was _one time_!”

* * *

“Is he gone?”

Opening the door just a crack, Sungyeol peeks out of it and is greeted by the deserted hallway. “Yep, all clear.”

Turning to face his best friend, he can’t hold back the grin that breaks out on his face; Myungsoo seems to be in the same predicament, his poker face slowly crumbling and giving way to a dimpled smile.

“Did we just—“

“Yep,” Sungyeol pops the ‘p’ at the end, throwing himself back on his bed.

Myungsoo joins him a moment later and they sit side by side, close enough that their arms are brushing, and barely containing their laughter.

“So, how long until everyone else finds out?” his friend asks after a while, head titled to face Sungyeol.

“Well, knowing Woohyun, I’d say a full minute until he tells someone, and probably twenty max until it reaches all of them.”

And sure enough, his phone lights up with a notification.

 

_Kim Sunggyu_

_5:47 PM_

_Woohyun told me about you and Myungsoo._

_????_

_Don’t ignore me!_

 

With a hasty promise that he will explain everything later and several emojis just for the sake of being obnoxious, Sungyeol switches off his phone and lets out a quiet chuckle. It’s not a _genius_ plan (though, if asked, he would definitely call it that), but so far it had worked smoothly enough. A small part of him feels bad about lying to Woohyun and relying on his inability to keep his mouth shut to move it along. But a larger part of him, still suffering from a bruised ego, remembers being called childish and predictable, and being owed around 6000 won that Woohyun keeps conveniently forgetting about, so he thinks they’re even.

Only…

“Hey,” he gets Myungsoo’s attention once again. “Things aren’t gonna be weird between us because of… y’know, earlier. Right?”

For a few terrifying seconds, his face stays completely blank, and Sungyeol can’t help the surge of internal panic that runs through him. Then things take their normal course and Myungsoo laughs, loud and unabashed.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” to emphasise, he smacks his arm a bit harder than necessary. Sungyeol gives him a half-hearted glare. “Yeol, we’ve accidentally seen each other naked more than five times and we _danced_ half-naked for a dare once. So, how’s pretending to make out any worse?”

He snorts at the memory. “Good point.”

“You were great back there, by the way.” The face he pulls must be dumbfounded enough to carry the message across, because Myungsoo decides to continue. “With Woohyun. Honestly, it’s kind of tragic that you didn’t stick to acting because _I_ almost believed you and I knew you were lying.”

Acting, as every person who’s ever met Sungyeol could tell, is still a pretty sore subject for him, but he’s a little too high on the success of their plan to sulk over it. Instead, he says: “You weren’t bad, either. I mean, except that part where you almost laughed and blew our cover.”

He leans forward, eyebrows raised. “But you could easily go for acting. You have the face for it.”

“Thanks, but I like it better on the other end of the camera,” the other man replies, dryly. “Might want to save that sweet talk for tomorrow when we meet up with the others, though.”

“Ah, yeah. Our first day out as a couple. Are you excited?”

A snort. “Obviously. There’s nothing better than pretending to feel each other up and watching our friends get increasingly disturbed,” his entire face scrunches up in laughter. “Just think of Sungjong’s reaction.”

Sungyeol does, and promptly joins his friend in a laughing fit at the mental image.

Eventually, the two of them get back to their business. Now on his own bed, Myungsoo is clicking away at his laptop, occasionally fiddling with the camera connected to it. Sungyeol is on the floor again, looking over his sketches in resignation, well aware that turning any of them in would result in a passable mark at most. He’s already pulled out a fresh piece of paper and started sketching the general layout when his stomach growls—for the third time in the past hour—and he decides to call it quits.

“Hey, do you wanna get pizza for dinner or something?” he turns to Myungsoo who’s already got his phone pressed to his ear and a typical half-smile on his face.

“Way ahead of you.”

While he starts rattling off toppings and sizes, Sungyeol looks at him and thinks he couldn’t have asked for a better best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this is not intended to be taken seriously and will have even less angst than my Elephant fics have, you have been warned. 
> 
> Shout at me on:  
> [Tumblr](http://freewinner2k16.tumblr.com)  
> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/tiredangryegg)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go from 0 to 100 pretty fast and Myungsoo's regretting the fact he said yes to this particularly stupid idea of Sungyeol's.
> 
> On the other hand, he kind of doesn't; and that's the actual problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had this written for over a month now but I decided I wouldn't post until I had more of this fic written. The full length will be of 4 chapters and I'll probably be finished with this sometime before the end of the... year. And then I'll get started on other things because I have an actual problem.
> 
> (JJTBH will also be getting an update, eventually; I didn't forget about it)
> 
> The warning about the seriousness of this fic (or rather, lack thereof) still stands. Enjoy the stupidity! (There's more to come in the next chapter)

Just as Sungyeol had expected, the reactions are mixed.

Once they break out the news that yes, they are dating (“Fucking call me a liar again Lee Howon, I dare you,” Woohyun huffs), Dongwoo congratulates them with a warm smile and so much sincerity that Sungyeol has to bite down on his tongue not to break down and tell him it’s all a farce. Like he’s forgotten about being mad at them in the first place, Woohyun becomes their second pillar of support—almost creepily so—and passes the role of the betrayed friend on to Sunggyu. Sungjong, as predicted, congratulates them hastily, makes a face like he’s swallowed a lemon when Myungsoo drapes himself over him, and pointedly informs them he’s trying to keep his lunch down when he tries to sneak in a kiss on the cheek.

By far, the one who looks the most displeased with the situation is Hoya, watching them with his mouth downturned and a crease between his eyebrows that’s deeper than usual. If he also feels hurt because he was left out of the loop, he doesn’t voice it.

(Another thing he doesn’t voice is the fact that his wallet happens to be a couple thousand won lighter and that may or may not be the reason for his sulking. Dongwoo, ever so attentive, nudges several pieces of meat onto his plate in an effort to cheer him up.)

“I still don’t understand why you couldn’t have told me,” Sunggyu mutters, looking a little miserable. “I was in the same situation as you before, you know.”

He knows, though he wants to say that what happened with him and Woohyun was far messier than their (fictional, but nonetheless) situation. What he says instead is “Hyung, we wanted to figure this out for ourselves,” then, with a groan, “How long do I have to apologise for this?”

Through mouthfuls of kimchi, Woohyun says something that sounds like “Until I eat my entire weight in sushi” which makes his boyfriend cringe.

“Can you not? You’re spitting food everywhere.”

“Can you _all_ not?” Sungjong sighs, chin propped up on his elbow. “You’re ruining my appetite.”

 Sensing an impending argument, Hoya speaks over whatever an offended Sunggyu was about to say. “So—Dongwoo-hyung, what was it that you wanted to tell us before?” Dongwoo frowns at him, titling his head questioningly. “About your roommate.”

“Oh, yeah. Well, Minseok told me yesterday that—“

Lunch is spent with Dongwoo chatting animatedly about a party his roommate had been to that ended up in absolute chaos, and something about a missing freshman they eventually found in one of the cupboards, however the hell he’d managed to fit in there. Sungyeol is paying more attention to his food, and a little to the way Myungsoo scoots a bit closer to him than usual.

Things aren’t drastically different; it’s just that now, when Myungsoo puts an arm around him and leans in to show him something on his phone, his touch lingers for a while longer and, smiling sweetly, he surreptitiously whispers “ _Watch, they’ll think I’m saying something romantic. Sunggyu has sauce on his nose.”_

Sungyeol tries his best not to burst out laughing as he returns the smile and interlaces his fingers with Myungsoo’s, just enough that it’s hard to miss but it’s not exactly in your face.

By the end of lunch, let alone the entire day, he’s already figured out that Myungsoo is far better at this than he is. Maybe it’s because he’s naturally clingy and affectionate with the rest of them, but every additional touch of his feels natural, even to Sungyeol—who, at one point, wakes up to the feeling of Myungsoo’s hand playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck and can’t even begin to explain when it started, let alone why he didn’t react to it.

Yet nothing really changes. They still joke around as usual, good-naturedly tease Sunggyu (“Okay, you know what? I’m literally only two years older than you.” “So? I don’t play chess for fun and I can stay up past 9 PM.”), listen to Woohyun’s endless list of complaints about his classes and try to determine how much they can push Sungjong’s buttons until the younger tries to swat either one of them.

And Myungsoo still laughs at him, almost to the point of collapsing, and calls him a dumbass when he accidentally gets sauce all over the front of his shirt. But this time, he takes the pack of wet wipes out of Dongwoo’s hands and gently helps him clean up most of the mess.

It’s nice, Sungyeol decides. He’s reminded of his last relationship with an Economics major who would brush the hair away from his face before she leaned in to kiss him but also challenged and successfully beat him in a ramyun eating contest; he couldn’t even stay a sore loser for too long since the consolation prize ended up being kisses and cuddling. Sometimes, Sungyeol wonders why he even broke up with her.

Then he remembers that five weeks into their relationship he saw her enthusiastically shoving her tongue down some Lit. major’s throat at a party and he snaps out of it.

But he’s still got nice memories to look back on and, maybe because there’s something in Myungsoo’s smile that’s reminiscent of hers combined with the fact that he’s doing a damn good job, Sungyeol pulls him into a tight, obnoxiously long embrace before they part ways.

“You’re being too much,” Myungsoo whispers into his hear, chuckling when he hears Sungjong groan impatiently that they need to move along because “ _Seriously_ you’re in the middle of the cafeteria…”

“Well, what did you expect? We had to keep our hands off each for months so you guys wouldn’t find out,” he explains to Sungjong once the two of them are walking down the hall, to their respective courses.

The blond wrinkles his nose, squinting in Sungyeol’s general direction. “Then Myungsoo did a terrible job so far and now he’s gonna get even worse.”

Before Sungyeol can half-heartedly come to his ‘boyfriend’s defence (within a month of knowing him they’d all found out his standoffish attitude is just for show and he’s a bit on the awkward side and a _lot_ on the clingy side), he speaks again.

“It’s not like I’m not happy for you two,” Sungjong sighs, looking faintly uncomfortable. “’Cause I know I might give that impression sometimes—it’s fine that you’re dating. Makes a lot of sense, actually. But you _have_ to promise me we won’t get a repeat of ‘WooGyu’.”

He wiggles his fingers into air quotes, for emphasis.

As solemnly as he can muster, Sungyeol says “I promise I won’t grope Myungsoo’s ass _in public_ ” and pats the younger on the back when he lets out a drawn out, long-suffering groan.

“Did you _have_ to phrase it like that?”

“Nope. Just yanking your chain.”

As Sungjong turns back to him, unimpressed, he can only laugh.

* * *

It’s a simple plan: pretend to be dating long enough to let everyone get used to the idea, have a series of staged fights and slowly seem to be drifting apart and, when everyone starts to lose their shit, reveal that everything was a hoax.

“We just need to do it for long enough that they don’t see it coming,” Sungyeol tells him, sagely, when the two of them discuss the outline of their plan. “Hoya’s a bit suspicious, I think.”

“Got’cha,” Myungsoo pauses, overcame by a sudden thought. “They’ll be pretty pissed off.”

The other man waves a hand, dismissively. “We’ve done worse before and they’re still our friends, I wouldn’t be too worried. Besides, Sunggyu should’ve known that I’d take it as a dare.”

He falters, hand still hovering in mid-air, a thoughtful frown on his face. “Unless you want to back out… I mean, I did kind of—“

“Don’t be a dumbass, dumbass,” he sighs, looking up from where his head is lying on Sungyeol’s lap. Sungyeol stares back at him, a little uncertain. “When I said I’m up for this, I meant it. Just don’t start whining if Sunggyu refuses to talk to us for a week or something.”

“Nah, he wouldn’t,” they stare at each other. Myungsoo raises his eyebrow. “Okay, but two days at most. You know he caves easily.”

“Sure, Yeol.”

And so it goes; the two of them carry on ‘dating’ like it’s nobody’s business (“Fuck the haters,” Sungyeol had told him when they walked hand-in-hand through the hallways, but Myungsoo doesn’t miss the set of his jaw or the way he glances back to the people talking in hushed whispers behind them).

Myungsoo makes sure to go the little extra mile with the casual touches, making them linger for longer than necessary. He lets his eyes rest on Sungyeol when the other isn’t watching, smiling in a way that’s only half-intentional. He—though he makes a show of his reluctance—ends up letting Sungyeol have most of his chicken wings when the other runs late and complains about them running out. He throws in a few flirtatious remarks here and there, casually pointing out how good Sungyeol looks in black without having to lie, and he actually has a hard time looking away from his legs that look even _longer_ in fitted jeans. One time when they all go out, he talks Sungyeol into getting one of those corny-looking couple menus that they’d make fun of people for ordering (Woohyun’s best puppy eyes fail at convincing Sunggyu it wouldn’t be a waste of his money), and it’s actually pretty damn good. What’s even better is the way they turn it into a contest of who can steal the most food from the other (“You’re… You guys are literally sharing a plate,” Hoya informs them, exasperated) which quickly turns into Sungyeol pushing food into Myungsoo’s open mouth with a grin on his face (until Sunggyu literally pulls the chopsticks out of his grip and calls them both _embarrassing;_ hypocrite).

So it’s no wonder that, sooner than later, he realises he is absolutely _fucked_.

“That looks pretty cool,” Sungyeol’s voice startles him out of his thoughts. He leans over Myungsoo’s shoulder to look at the new batch of pictures he’s working with and the proximity, while welcome as ever, makes the younger grow a little fidgety. “Hey, is that from the park we went before finals week?”

Myungsoo keeps his eyes on the computer screen as he replies. “Uh, yeah. It’s for an assignment.”

“What theme?”

“Just, y’know… open choice,” when Sungyeol leans closer, Myungsoo feels his face and the back of his neck warming up. He clears his throat. “I’m not really sure where I’m going with it.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

With that, he shifts away and Myungsoo lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

“Doubt it. I’ve got a deadline approaching and I’ve barely started on anything.”

“Myung, I’m pretty sure you were born holding a camera,” he opens his mouth to protest, but he gets no chance to. “You’re great this. You’ll figure it out.”

He whirls around in his chair to smile at his best friend, feeling like a weight was lifted off his chest and another was added. “Thanks, Yeol.”

Sungyeol shrugs, grabbing the pack of chips lying on his bed. “What are best friends for if not pointing out when you’re being a huge idiot? Don’t mention it,” he opens the bag with a rustling pop, shoves a handful of snacks into his mouth. Then, like a sudden realisation hit him: “Unless you become like world famous or something ‘cause I’ll want 100% off on my wedding pictures, since I didn’t let you give up on your dream and all.”

Most of what he says is muffled by the mouthful of soggy potatoes so Myungsoo scrunches his nose up in mock disgusts, and wipes imaginary spittle off his cheek. “Gross. How am I even friends with you?” That being said, he reaches out to grab some of the chips himself.

By the time his hand is half-way in, Sungyeol yanks the bag away. “You don’t get to insult me _and_ steal my food. Get your own.”

“Didn’t your parents teach you that sharing is caring?” he retorts, letting out a small whoop when his fists closes around a few in the last second. He bites into the first one with a satisfying crunch, smirking in Sungyeol’s direction.

The older man looks into the bag with a pout and mutters, “Greedy asshole.”

Myungsoo’s smirk is wiped clean off his face in the following half hour when, just before he goes to bed, Sungyeol drops an unopened bag of chips into his lap, gives his shoulder an affectionate squeeze and wishes him good luck on his project.

Honestly speaking, he’d known this was a bad idea the moment Sungyeol suggested it. As soon as the words left his mouth, Myungsoo’s brain was scrambling to come up with any other idea, even playing with the thought of stealing Sungjong’s notes and replacing them with copies written entirely in Latin (he knows a guy), or anything that doesn’t involve doing something stupid, like pretending to date his best friend. The best friend whom, if someone put a gun to his head and made him admit it, he’d humoured the occasional non-platonic thought about, just a few times enough to be kind of ashamed of himself.

But he was pretty hard-pressed to say no when Sungyeol already started to detail the specifics of possibly the worst prank he had gotten himself involved into, suddenly energised to the point where he was _glowing_ , like he hadn’t been in a bad mood to begin with. So, confronted by his best friend’s excitement and dazzling grin, he caved.

(In hindsight, Myungsoo thinks he should really grow a backbone.)

It wouldn’t have been a problem if he was the only one doing a good job at playing the part; if Sungyeol was uncomfortable and hesitant in his touches, if he didn’t make an effort to meet any more than the basic boyfriend requirements when their friends were present. He had, at the beginning, been a little stiff—subtly enough that Myungsoo might’ve been the only one who picked up on it. Yet, before he knew it, he’d find Sungyeol linking their hands together effortlessly, impulsively offering to buy things for him or pay for his meals despite his protests (few and half-hearted, but he’d be dumb to refuse free food) or suddenly being prone to giving him surprise pecks on the cheek (the first time it happened Myungsoo was so taken aback he almost dropped his textbooks; and thanked the gods that he hadn’t been holding his camera).

The bottom line is that, somewhere along the line, he may have gotten used to it. He may have even grown to like it a little, maybe.

Or, the rundown of the situation is: Myungsoo enjoys having his best friend play the role of his doting boyfriend more than he is supposed to, for all the wrong reasons, and he needs to sort his shit out as soon as possible.

It’s just kind of hard to put a stop on the crush he _might_ be developing on Sungyeol when the other is so within reach. When he actually has an _excuse_ to stare at him for longer than necessary, to hold his hand without it being weird, to hug him closer and for long enough that it exceeds the limits of platonic; to be able to experience what it’s it like to be the centre of Lee Sungyeol’s universe.

He realises it’s gone too far when Yuna pulls him aside after class, smiling gently while she hands him a colourful poster. Myungsoo looks at it, barely skimming over the words, then back at her.

“Uh…?”

“My sister is part of this volunteer group and they’re organizing a private screening of some new indie movie,” she explains and the bewilderment must show on his face because she waves a hand, dismissively. “Yeah, I know. Better if you don’t ask. Anyway, she told me to spread the word so I figured you might want to take your boyfriend. He’s into that stuff, right?” and to seal the deal, she adds: “It’s couples’ night so you get 20% off on the ticket and complimentary snacks, if you were wondering.”

“Couples’ night?”

“I think one of the coordinators just got into a relationship,” Yuna shrugs. “Anyway, I just thought I’d let you know.”

Myungsoo takes another look at the poster; on the side facing him, a man holding a broken violin stands alone in the middle of a crowd of monochrome, blurred out people. “Looks pretty cool. I’ll ask Yeol if he’s up for it and we’ll see you there?”

“Oh, no. It’s not my thing, I’m just trying to get my sister to stop whining that I never do anything for her,” she rolls her eyes, but a soft smile makes its way onto her face. “Hope you two enjoy yourselves, though.”

Unable to help himself, Myungsoo smirks. “Oh, we _will._ ”

Yuna wrinkles her nose. “You’re so nasty.”

“I meant that we’re going to have fun watching the movie and eating free food,” he says as she begins to walk away. “What’d you think I meant?”

She turns to raise an eyebrow at him, lips twitching upwards like she’s trying to hold back a smile, and mouths “Nasty” before she stalks off in the direction of her next class. Myungsoo chuckles.

He’s already got the poster in one hand and his phone in the other, ready to fill Sungyeol in with the details when it dawns on him that he’s just about to ask Sungyeol to go see a movie with him on _couples’_ night and it’s not weird at all since they’re dating. Only they’re not. Only Yuna and every one of their friends think they are, so it’s not weird. Only Myungsoo has absolutely no qualms in pretending that it’s real, to the point where he almost forgot that it’s not.

And worse even, Sungyeol will probably agree because it’s the perfect opportunity to show off their ‘relationship’ to the rest of their gullible, foolish friends. He has a faint idea of why the thought makes a heavy weight settle into his stomach.

“—soo?” Sungyeol’s voice, coming from the other end of the line, snaps him out of his thoughts.

“Huh?”

“Don’t ‘huh’ me, are you kid—Dude, _you_ called me,” the other hisses, exasperated. “What’s up? I’m just about to get into class.”

“I uh—just, misplaced a folder and wanted to know if you have it by chance,” he replies on a whim, tone even. Sungyeol groans.

“No, I don’t have your folder. Why would I?”

“Maybe you grabbed it on accident, dunno… Doesn’t matter.”

“Well I don’t have it,” he pauses; there’s the sound of indistinct voices in the background. “Is everything okay? You sound off.”

He sounds genuinely _worried_ and, to his horror, Myungsoo’s heart just about skips a beat. “Yeah… yeah, just thinking about where I could’ve left that thing,” he clears his throat, flustered. “Have fun in class.”

“You’re kidding right? It’s a snooze fest,” he scoffs, voice muffled. “Anyway, I’ll call you later. Good luck finding it.”

A pause, Myungsoo stops in his tracks. “Finding what?”

“Uh, your folder? Myungsoo, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, just a bit—actually, I think I found it,” he lies through his teeth, rummaging through his bag until he realises it’s not like Sungyeol can _see_ him doing it over the phone. Slightly embarrassed, he stops. “Yep. It’s here, sorry.”

“Geez, could you be more scatter-brained?” Sungyeol sighs, but his tone is fond. “Okay, I should get inside. Try not to lose anything else like, your head maybe. If anyone could, it’d be you.”

“Ha, funny. Enjoy studying ancient buildings.”

He hangs up half-way through Sungyeol’s groan, smiling to himself. At least until he remembers the poster that lies crumpled in his left hand, just like his mind, or what’s left of his dignity, or maybe both. In a decision that’s more stupidly sentimental than environmentally conscious, he folds it neatly and places it into his bag.

As he sips on his coffee in the remaining minutes before class, he decides that the next time he and Sungyeol have some time to themselves, he’s going to convince him they’re doing well enough so they can move up the time of their impending break up, get this whole thing over with, and finally regain some semblance of normalcy.

* * *

The next time they have some time to themselves that’s not spent sleeping or working on assignments, Sungyeol takes him out on a date. Or, rather…

“You just wanted to come here because it’ll piss him off, didn’t you?” Myungsoo mumbles into his straw, glancing out of the corner of his eye at a red-faced Sunggyu who seems to be having (and losing) an argument with one of his co-workers, behind the counter.

Sungyeol, who had been waving to their friend with an oversized grin on his face ever since they sat down at the table, turns to him. “Of course not. I wanted to come here because I have money to spend and I want to treat my _boyfriend_ to something nice,” he nudges the menu to his side of the table. “Have your pick of anything on here, it’s on me. I know you’re probably grumpy cause I dragged you out of bed on a Saturday, so let’s say this is my way of making up for it.”

It’s kind of pathetic that Myungsoo is less unhappy about having to get up before noon on a blessed Saturday than he is over the joking way Sungyeol calls him his boyfriend and how dismissive he is of the entire situation. Not that he’d have any reason to act otherwise, but that thought doesn’t help either.

He hums, fingers trailing over the menu. “Then I want a large portion of this with fries, one of these, two of these rolls and dessert,” then, he points to his glass. “And another hot chocolate.”

“Do you have a bottomless pit for a stomach, or are you just trying to be an asshole?” Sungyeol grumbles, pulling the menu away from him.

“You said anything on the menu and it’s almost lunch and I didn’t have breakfast, so I’m compensating,” face propped up on the palm of his hand, he tacks on a smile. “You wouldn’t let your boyfriend go hungry, would you?”

“No, but you would. At this rate, whoever dates you in the future is gonna go broke in two weeks max.”

Myungsoo is about to tell him that he’s really just messing around and he doesn’t _need_ that much food (though he wouldn’t mind having it), when Sunggyu approaches their table, looking equal parts reluctant and annoyed. Or, by the glare he throws at the both of them, leaning more towards annoyed.

“Why are you guys here?” he finally asks, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Wow, the staff here is pretty rude,” Sungyeol remarks almost conversationally before turning to him. “Aren’t you supposed to welcome us and ask for our order?”

Sunggyu stops for a moment and plasters a big, fake smile on his face. “Welcome to The Eye,” his smile drops into a straight line. “Why are you here and is it going to get me fired because I _swear_ —”

“Chill, we’re not here to cause trouble. I got a pretty nice sum off a commission and I thought I’d bring Myung here to celebrate,” he feels Sungyeol’s warm hand settle over his as he speaks, squeezing gently. The return of boyfriend Sungyeol is strangely bittersweet. “No shenanigans.”

One eyebrow raised and still looking like he’s half-expecting them to set the place on fire, he takes out a small notepad. “O-kay, then. Are you ready to order?”

To his surprise, Sungyeol not only rattles out all of his ridiculously lengthy order but he upgrades the sizes and orders the most expensive dessert on the menu; some sort of molten chocolate cake with ice-cream and fruit on the side. Sunggyu takes one good look at the notepad, then at them, leans closer to the table and hisses:

“If you guys think of dining and dashing I swear to God I will—“

“Hyung, I wouldn’t order this if I couldn’t pay for it,” Sungyeol assures him, rolling his eyes. “Being banned from this place and costing you a pay check isn’t my idea of fun, okay? We’re really just here to eat and have a good time together, right?”

It takes Myungsoo a moment to realise the question was directed at him. “Right,” he seconds, and it doesn’t even feel like a lie. “We’ve both been too busy to go out lately so we’re really trying to make this one count.”

Somehow, this seems to do a good enough job of convincing Sunggyu because the elder relents with a sigh and makes his way back to the counter.

(“But—since we’re basically the best friends you’ll ever have, d’you think we could at least get a discount on this or…?” Sungyeol tries, making Sunggyu whirl around to give him a dirty look.

“In your dreams, you—“ but he doesn’t get to continue, effectively silenced by the presence of his manager.)

The food arrives so quickly that Myungsoo wonders whether Sunggyu had gone and rushed the cook into making it just so they could eat and be out of his hair as soon as possible. Sungyeol spends the time they wait for it by taking advantage of their secluded corner booth to brush the hair out of Myungsoo’s face and play with his fingers when he’s sure Sunggyu is watching; Myungsoo’s never felt so cared for yet like he’s being used at the same time.

It’s easier to cope with once he’s got food in front of him: all of his thoughts are lost between bites of meat, eggs, fries and cream-filled buns—and the vegetable side-dishes once he remembers about their existence. Sungyeol offers him what’s left of his own food and half of his dessert without a moment’s hesitation, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“So, I’ve realised something.”

“What?” he asks through a mouthful of cake.

“We haven’t kissed yet,” Sungyeol points out so matter-of-factly that the piece of cake lodges itself in Myungsoo’s throat and almost sends him into a coughing fit. It’s years of being socially awkward and practicing a perfect poker face that stop him from doing exactly that as he reaches for his drink. “I mean, Woohyun caught us ‘making out’ once so I think it’d be weird if we didn’t get caught at least one more time before we ‘break up’.”

He twirls his fork around, looking pensive. “Preferably by Hoya or Sunggyu, since I’m not convinced they bought it the first time around. What do you think?”

What Myungsoo _thinks_ is that it’s almost the absolutely worst idea he’s ever had—the first one being this entire fake dating fiasco.

What Myungsoo says is “Okay,” and he leans forward, over the table, until a wide-eyed Sungyeol pushes him away.

“What are you doing?” he asks, voice cracking and eyes wandering about to see if anyone could have seen them.

Flopping back in his seat, Myungsoo blinks. “You said you wanna make it look like we’re kissing and Sunggyu keeps looking here, so…”

“Not _here_. Dude, we’re in public.”

“So? It’s not like we didn’t do PDA before,” he points out, thinking of the times Sungyeol had hugged him or pecked him on the cheek in the middle of crowded places.

“Yeah, but that was different. It was on campus and it wasn’t—Here it’s just—“ Myungsoo can’t help but chuckle at his sputtering and the way his cheeks take on a reddish hue. It only serves to make Sungyeol look more embarrassed. “Stop laughing, you jackass, or I’m not paying for your food.”

“Admit it. You’re just looking for an excuse to get out of paying,” he scoffs, feigning offence, before he sobers up altogether. “What’d you have in mind then?”

There’s a pause in which Sungyeol sips on the remainder of his Americano. “I’ll think of something,” he finally says, putting the cup aside. “Now, I better go pay in advance before Sunggyu-hyung bursts an artery. Can you believe he thinks we’re terrible enough to dine and dash?”

Myungsoo doesn’t answer, choosing instead to stare at him.

“…Okay, maybe, but not from the diner one of our friends works at,” he gestures to the counter. “I’ll go pay now. I’ll even leave a tip, just to show what a great customer I am.”

“You do that.”

After he walks away, Myungsoo is left alone with a bunch of empty dishes and a strange, warm feeling in his stomach that refuses to go away, even when he reminds himself three times that this relationship—and subsequently—this date, is one huge lie.

* * *

It’s not often that all of them have get-togethers, either because of lack of time, schedule conflicts, or just because everybody assumed someone else would plan one out and in the end, nobody did. Woohyun was generally the one who took the initiative to gather all of them in one place and, since he and Sunggyu started dating, that place was usually the latter’s apartment (to his eternal displeasure and recurring warnings to ”Use the damn coasters, that’s what they’re made for!”).

Naturally, Woohyun manages to call them over one Saturday evening—even their elusive, ever so busy freshman—and that, after a couple glasses of soju while they’re waiting for Dongwoo and Hoya to show up, ends up being the _something_ Sungyeol had been looking for.

“I can’t believe you texted me ‘Operation Hot Lips NSFW, Starting in five minutes, Location: the kitchen’” Myungsoo, leaning against the counter of said kitchen, peers down at his screen with a smile.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know what Operation Hot Lips NSFW was,” his best friend accuses, almost pouting. It’s actually kind of cute, and Myungsoo knows better than to hope it’s the drunk goggles talking, considering he barely drank anything.

Still on the brink of laughter, he asks: “How fucking drunk are you right now?”

Sungyeol rolls his eyes. “I should be asking _you_ that, lightweight,” then, he steps in front of Myungsoo and places his hands on top of the counter, on either side of him. “So, ready to do this?”

Maybe he really is a lightweight, because that would be the perfect excuse for the pleasant bout of dizziness that overcomes him when Sungyeol leans in closer, eyes boring into his.

He tries to keep his face even, impassive, as he replies. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Aren’t we rushing, though? Nobody’s coming to the kitchen yet.”

“I finished almost all of the snacks so, give it a few minutes.”

Silence falls over the kitchen, broken only by the sounds of the TV in the next room and Woohyun’s voice as he yells at Hoya over the phone to hurry the hell up and bring more booze. They look at each other for a minute longer, Sungyeol bent forwards so his face is close enough that Myungsoo can feel his breath on his skin.

“Are you really okay with this?” it’s spoken so softly that, had he not been staring at Sungyeol’s lips as they moved, he may have missed it altogether. “We got pretty far already so if you’re uncomfortable we can—“

“Yeol,” Myungsoo, maybe a bit less sober than he gave himself credit for, interrupts him with a smile and effectively demolishes his easy way out. “Do I need to remind you again that we’ve done weirder things than this?”

Sungyeol lets out a small laugh, leaning forward until their foreheads connect.

“Yeah… We’ve done weirder.”

Only he’s not so sure of that half a second later, when their lips meet tentatively in something that was supposed to be a fake kiss but is crossing into dangerous territory. Myungsoo is not even sure who closed the gap, just that Sungyeol’s mouth is on his and he’s being pushed even further down on the counter as he deepens the kiss. For better equilibrium and lack of a better thing to do with his hands, he hooks his fingers on the taller man’s belt loops, pulling him closer and drawing a surprised moan out of him. In return, he nibbles on his lower lip with enough ferocity that it sends a shiver up Myungsoo’s spine. Sighing into the kiss, he opens his mouth—

“Um?”

They pull away from each other so fast that Myungsoo’s lower back slams into the counter pretty painfully; he has to stifle a whimper and resign himself to the fact it would probably leave a bruise. The only indicator that Sungyeol is even remotely flustered is in the red dusting across his cheeks, ears and the back of his neck. His facial expression is one of subtle annoyance, eyebrow raised at the person frozen in the doorway.

Sungjong is silent for a moment longer, face set into a subtle grimace.

“You… I’m not even gonna try,” he finally sighs, picking up several bags of snacks off the table and starts to go back the way he came. “I’ll just tell Sunggyu to go ahead and disinfect the entire kitchen after you two are done.”

“Hey, hey, Sungjongie,” Sungyeol whines loudly, hand tugging at the younger’s sleeve. “C’mon, don’t tell Sunggyu, he’ll freak.”

“Don’t tell Sunggyu what?” a voice shouts from the other room, clearly alarmed.

“Nothing!” Sungyeol yells at the same time Sungjong replies with “They were sucking face, ugh. Myungsoo was practically up on the counter.”

“He wasn’t exactly _on_ it.”

“ _Lee Sungyeol!”_

While all of this is happening, voices shouting at each other in a cacophony that Sungyeol had clearly planned from the very beginning, Myungsoo slouches against the wretched counter, willing his heartbeat to slow down.

All things considered and everything added up, the only conclusion to this is that Myungsoo is _fucked_.

(Or, embarrassingly enough, he wishes he were.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For yelling purposes:
> 
> [Tumblr](http://freewinner2k16.tumblr.com)  
> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/tiredangryegg)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sungyeol tries to do damage control and naturally manages to make everything way worse than it already was. Lovely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm officially back from hiatus and will try to write more starting now (try being the keyword). 
> 
> A little bit of info for people who were worried/wondering why I dropped off the face of the Earth: I was having a really tough time getting adjusted to college and just in general, stuff happened and I moved into a new place then exam period happened and pretty much every chance of me getting shit done went right out the window. The good news is that I passed all of my exams with really good marks and overall everything is much better now. 
> 
> So I thought I would pick up my writing projects and started by finishing chapter 3 of this gem of mine. I'm actually not mad at how it turned out at all; I'm pretty alright with it, in fact. I hope everyone who's been waiting for this will enjoy it and not hold it against me that I only half-assedly proofread it before posting, haha.
> 
> PS: There's an Easter Egg in here for anyone who's read a certain previous fic of mine. Like a huge one. An ostrich Easter Egg, if you will.

In a human lifetime, one gets roughly enough time to evaluate their life choices once in a while and have one of those moments of self-reflection that eventually lead to some kind of revelation. Sungyeol’s current revelation is that he is definitely not supposed to enjoy fake dating his best friend as much as he does, and he is _definitely_ not supposed to replay their make out session inside his head, over and over again.

(There’s also something else he’s not supposed to do inside his head, but that was embarrassing enough the first time around, so he’d rather forget.)

And the thing that makes it absolutely, _excruciatingly_ worse is not even the fact that this ‘genius’ prank that was supposed to show Sunggyu how unpredictable he is has unleashed _something_ inside him that thinks it’s okay to fantasize about kissing (he’s not Christian, so he can swear to God it’s only kissing) his best friend. Or the fact that this joke of a relationship they’ve got going on is possibly the best one Sungyeol’s had up to date. Or even the fact that whenever he’s going to visit Sunggyu’s kitchen from now on, he’s probably going to think about The Time He Shoved His Tongue Down Myungsoo’s Throat And Liked It.

No—it’s the fact that everything fits together so normally, to the point where he sometimes believes they are dating and has a hard time convincing himself at this point that he isn’t happy. All too happy to hold Myungsoo’s hand and take him out on dates, watch him devour his meal with a smile and commenting on the fact that he eats like a pig, anticipating the snarky reply of ‘But you love me anyway’ with a yes on his lips and something that holds him back from saying it. _Definitely_ all too happy to kiss Myungsoo and then let it keep him up at night with thoughts of what could have happened if Sungjong hadn’t walked in on them (like that wasn’t his set-up to begin with). When he thinks about their inevitable break up it’s like he remembers some boring assignment he’s procrastinating on and pushes it at the back of his mind for _just a little longer_.

Only, to recap: it’s not an actual break-up, it’s not a real relationship, and for all the rom-coms Sungyeol has seen in his life (it’s hard to avoid when you’re friends with Woohyun) thinks he should’ve known better than to put himself in this position. Sungyeol would love nothing more than to go back in time, just moments before he suggests that idiotic idea, print out a couple scripts from movies with a fake dating plot and smack his past self over the head with them—repeatedly.

But because this is real life, what he does is glare at his computer screen, at a summary of one of those trashy movies, pitifully hoping it’ll give him a way to sort the situation out other than having Myungsoo magically return his feelings.

(He’s not even sure about his _own_ feelings, and every time he tries to think about it he comes dangerously close to giving himself a migraine. He just knows he wants to keep ‘dating’ Myungsoo and that giving him bullshit reasons for postponing their staged fights is starting to plague him with guilt, just a little.)

“Yeol... Hey.”

“Yeah?” he lifts his head to look up at Myungsoo, apprehensively, struck with the sudden thought of _‘But what if the entire time we were joking about it he really could read my mind and he’s doing it now?_ ’ before his inner voice of reason that sounds suspiciously like Sunggyu thwarts the idea.

“What do you think of this?”

Sungyeol scoots closer to where the other is standing with his own laptop (though not on his own bed, but that surprises no one), an online shopping window open on the picture of a shirt.

He suppresses a sigh. “Looks great. Just like the other uh, seven plaid shirts you have that are identical to it. Myung, come on. Why are you like this?”

“I like plaid, and it’s not identical.” With a roll of his eyes, Sungyeol leans closer to take over control of the touchpad; though Myungsoo frowns, he makes no move to stop it. ”Aren’t you the one studying design? You should be able to pick up on stuff like this.”

“Interior design, not fashion design. If I was studying fashion design then, trust me, half of your closet would be gone by now. What do you need a new shirt for, anyway?”

“Moonsoo’s birthday is coming up and I’m buying him a present, so I figured I’d get myself a shirt too. Mom’s not really into the whole scruffy college student look, so it’d spare me a lecture.”

“How the hell does a plaid shirt not fall under ‘scruffy college student look’?” he chuckles, shaking his head when Myungsoo tries to defend that ‘it’s fine as long as it doesn’t look worn down’.

After a couple more minutes of browsing in relative silence, broken only by Myungsoo’s occasional quips (“I could get it in purple. I don’t have a purple plaid shirt.” “ _Great_. Let’s leave it like that.”), he manages to talk him into buying a classier looking button-up within his price range, but in black instead of the pastel blue Sungyeol had picked out for him. Sungyeol bites back his protest that this also looks like something he already has in his closet just because it’s a step up from the plaid and he doesn’t want to risk it.

It’s just as Myungsoo’s placing the order that it finally draws on him how close they got during the entire thing. Close enough that a few strands of the younger’s hair are tickling the right side of his face every time he shifts. Close enough that he can see dark circles that are starting to form under Myungsoo’s eyes and follow all the lines of his profile, from the slope of his nose to the swell of his lips, where he lets his eyes linger. Close enough that on instinct, he almost tries to close the gap between the two of them in a kiss—a small, affectionate peck on the lips, just enough to convey how fond Sungyeol is of his boyfriend and how overwhelmed he is by his beauty, scruffy college student look and all.

Except Myungsoo’s not his boyfriend, and the realisation makes him jerk away, feeling like someone had poured a bucket of ice cold water over him.

* * *

“I think I’m in love with Myungsoo.”

Dongwoo, sitting across from him and nursing a bottle of water, tilts his head and gives him a quizzical look. “Well, yeah. Okay… Go on. Where’s the problem?”

Pursing his lips, Sungyeol opens his mouth, then closes it right back, then does the same thing again because he doesn’t even know how to begin. Unsurprisingly, Dongwoo doesn’t stay silent for long.

“Did you guys like… not say it to each other yet? I love you?” he asks, curiously and with a hint of a smile playing at his face—neither amused or mocking, just sweet and supportive and so _Dongwoo_ that the guilt finally hits. Hard.

When he’d knocked on Dongwoo’s door on a whim, frantically and giving a pretty sucky explanation as to why he was here, the elder had welcomed him inside without a second thought—even offering Sungyeol water to drink and maybe some snacks, because he looked out of sorts. And even now, when Sungyeol’s not making a lot of sense, Dongwoo’s listening, and when Sungyeol looks like he’s having a hard time forcing his words out, Dongwoo tries to coax him in the gentlest, most encouraging way possible. And there he is: Lee Sungyeol, worst friend of the year, about to admit that he’d been lying out of his ass to him and to the rest of their friends for over a month now.

“Because I’m sure Myungsoo feels the same so, if you feel the need to say it, I don’t think—“

“That’s not it,” he interrupts, feeling like he wants to dig a hole and bury himself alive. He fiddles with his hands, trying his hardest not to bury his face in them with a groan. “It couldn’t be farther from that. It’s actually…”

So he explains—the set-up, the plan, Myungsoo’s willing cooperation and Woohyun’s clueless one, the way things were supposed to go and how everything went to shit back in Sunggyu’s kitchen. And Dongwoo listens patiently, looking a bit taken aback but otherwise holding back any kind of reaction until Sungyeol’s done telling his story; the consideration he shows actually makes him feel even more terrible by the time he’s done.

They sit together in silence for what feels like an eternity.

“Sungyeol…” Dongwoo trails off, wide-eyed; he didn’t even say anything, yet Sungyeol already feels chastised. “Man, did you even think this through?”

Sungyeol cringes. He really didn’t.

(His mother used to go on about how single-minded he could be sometimes, how he was very inventive but he never looked at the big picture, so he’d often end up digging himself into a hole by working a lot in all the wrong places. And he’d always brush her off by sulking and saying things like “ _You’re my mother, aren’t you supposed to be supportive?_ ” and her replying with a shake of her head and a fond, scolding “ _The best kind of support I can give you is not letting you back yourself into a corner.”_

Like with everything his mother says, he should have listened.)

“I know I screwed up,” he sighs, eyes downcast and staring a hole through the floor. “I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Well, for one, it would be better if you didn’t tell the others about this uh… prank,” when Sungyeol looks up at him in wonder, he rubs at the back of his neck. “For now, I mean. I don’t think having everyone going at you for lying to them would help in this situation.”

He frowns. “Though you shouldn’t have lied in the first place. I don’t know what you were thinking.”

“I don’t think I was thinking,” Sungyeol admits, sounding a little more bitter than intended. Sighing, he throws his weight back and leans against the wall. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get there. What about, erm… the problem?”

“Just talk to Myungsoo.”

“Hyung,” he brings his hands to his face this time, letting out that long overdue groan. “I really need help, okay? Please.”

“I don’t think you can do anything else,” Dongwoo shrugs helplessly, eyebrows furrowed. “Talk things out with Myungsoo. You can’t avoid something like this and hope it goes away. Plus, you guys are really close and, for all you know, he might feel the same thing.”

“Yeah,” Sungyeol grumbles into his hands, “and we’ll have some dramatic ‘Why didn’t we do this sooner?’ kiss scene like we’re in a goddamn rom-com. That’s not how things work out in real life.”

“You never know,” his friend insists, with an ever-present hint of concern. “And even if it doesn’t work out like that, this is _Myungsoo._ Your best friend Myungsoo. At the very least he’ll understand and you guys will figure something out. Whatever you’re thinking right now, avoiding this conversation might do more damage to your friendship than telling him, you know.”

He knows, but there’s also a voice deep down inside him that goes ‘ _But I_ want _things to work out like in movies’_ , all petulant like he’s the literal five year old Sunggyu always accuses him of being. Considering the predicament he’s in and the amount of thought he clearly didn’t put into his plan, he kind of is.

“I’ll talk to him,” he finally relents, letting his hands fall back to his sides. Hesitantly, he peers up at Dongwoo, who has a faint smile on his face. “You’re not… y’know, mad? That we lied to you.”

“Well,” he makes a face. “I’m not _happy_ about it, but considering how wrong the entire thing went, I don’t think it’s worth lecturing you anymore.”

As earnestly as humanly possible, Sungyeol looks at him and says: “You’re a literal angel, hyung.”

Dongwoo laughs, loud and genuine, and that’s enough to put his mind at ease a little more. Talking to Myungsoo seems to be the only reasonable solution left (Sungyeol could think of others that aren’t so reasonable, but frankly he’s in no position to take risks) and, now that he’s calm enough to think about it, there really isn’t much that can go wrong.

* * *

Only there is, Sungyeol realises the second he spots Myungsoo making his way through the crowd—hands clasped tight around his camera, shoulders tense and frame tighter than usual, his face the perfect picture of nonchalance save for the way his eyes move, darting around the room looking for his escape route; specifically, for a familiar face amidst all that mass of people. Specifically, for Sungyeol.

When he spots him, his entire stance relaxes, though it’s a change subtle enough to be visible only to the trained eye (so, Sungyeol).

Besides the fact that it gets Sungyeol thinking that it’s pretty fucking endearing how happy Myungsoo seems to see him, it’s also a reminder to something all of them kind of tend to overlook. Namely: Myungsoo, as cuddly and affectionate as he is, is pretty bad with people.

Bad to the point where Sungyeol himself had spent a chunk of his first year thinking Myungsoo is a huge asshole (kind of true, but in a different way) or some kind of robot, incapable of anything resembling human emotions, sent on Earth by aliens in order to observe and silently judge them all. Bad to the point where there are still too many people who think that Myungsoo’s aversion to socialising comes from some sort of cool, aloof persona instead of the fact he’s painfully awkward and doesn’t like talking to strangers. Bad to the point where it took Myungsoo a whole month until he was able to speak to their newest addition to their group, Sunggyu, in more than one-word replies and without relying on Sungyeol to reply for him instead.

So he knows how important it is that Myungsoo managed to get comfortable enough around all of them to be able to talk freely, even rivalling Woohyun in chattiness on the occasional good day. He _especially_ knows how important _their_ friendship is to him, because Myungsoo trusts him with so many things Sungyeol’s slowly realising he’s been taking for granted the entire time.

So, hypothetical situation 1: he tells Myungsoo he might have the hots for him and he doesn’t feel the same way. Sungyeol wants to say he’d deal with the rejection like a champ, but he probably won’t, and he’d end up making an _Oscar-worthy Lee Sungyeol Big Deal™_ of it. Things will get awkward between them and before he knows it, they’re not on speaking terms, Myungsoo requests a roommate change and begins to keep his distance from their other friends as well, and the group either falls apart because everyone’s picking sides or they just all end up collectively hating Sungyeol’s guts.

Hypothetical situation 2: he tells Myungsoo he might have the hots for him and he accepts to give dating a try, but a while into their relationship one of them realises he actually doesn’t have any feelings for the other and it was all just a case of temporarily misplaced horniness. They trudge on with their unhappy little relationship, start having lots of arguments until the truth comes to light and then someone gets irreparably hurt by the entire thing. Their friendship is compromised and the rest of their friends will probably end up collectively hating someone’s guts—probably Sungyeol’s. (Though if he’d end up hurting Myungsoo like that, he’d probably hate his own guts, anyway.)

There’s also hypothetical situation 3 in which Myungsoo feels the same, they give dating a try and it actually works out just as well as their fake dating has or even better. Dongwoo thinks there’s a high possibility of it happening; Sungyeol thinks he hasn’t done enough good things in his life for this kind of karma.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” Myungsoo asks him once they’re seated at a corner table and he’s sipping on some kind of sugary monstrosity that Sungyeol wouldn’t call a coffee if you paid him his own weight in gold to do it. _Maybe_ his and Myungsoo’s added weights in gold. Maybe.

There’s a soft smile on the other’s face that makes his dimple stand out a little, and a little foam from the aforementioned sugary monstrosity leftover on the corner of his mouth that Sungyeol is by no means itching to reach over and wipe off with his thumb.

Decision made, he clenches and unclenches his clammy hands—eventually he just places them around his respectable cup of Americano—and swallows around the knot that’s formed in his throat. He can do this.

“I think it’s time to start setting up our break-up.”

There’s no reaction on Myungsoo’s part other than a small tilt of his head that Sungyeol takes as his cue to continue.

“Like, we need to start fighting somewhere public. Maybe next time we meet in the cafeteria with the guys?”

For a pathetic moment, Sungyeol almost hopes for him to decline and say that they should keep dating just a little longer—a couple more months maybe, just to make sure it’s believable. It’s a thought.

Instead, Myungsoo puts down his coffee with a hum. “Yeah, I guess. What are we going to fight about?”

Sungyeol gnaws on his bottom lip and releases it with a huff. “That… I didn’t think of.”

_A recurring theme,_ says a voice inside of him that sounds much like Sungjong’s—annoying and annoyingly right.

“Maybe you saw me with someone else while I lied to you that I’m in class or something?” Myungsoo suggests, carelessly throwing around words that settle in a sour pit at the bottom of Sungyeol’s stomach.

“No, no cheating. That would just complicate things.”

Myungsoo gives him this look that low-key says ‘ _Is it even possible for things to get_ more _complicated?’_ but, to his credit, he doesn’t voice it. Instead, he stirs into the cup with his straw with something Sungyeol’s learned to recognise as his ‘thinking face’—just a notch different from his usual zoned out and dead to the world expression.

“I think I’ve got something else,” he says, just as Sungyeol is about to suggest that they go with something clichéd like forgetting some kind of anniversary (never mind that they wouldn’t have a believable one to latch onto).

“Okay? I’m listening.”

And that’s how Sungyeol ends up, two days later, shrugging Myungsoo’s arm off his shoulder with the most annoyed expression he can muster, hissing “Would you just _cut that out_?” loud enough for everyone at the table to overhear.

Woohyun pauses in his overeager retelling of some story involving one of his asshole professors, mouth agape. Sungjong actually looks up from his book to stare at them. Next to him Myungsoo falters, letting his arm fall to his side with a frown.

“Sungyeol…”

“No, we’ve been over this before and you just—“ he lets out a sigh of frustration, rubbing a hand over his face before he turns back to Myungsoo. “Do you even listen to me when I talk or is it just a bunch of background noise for you?”

“Can we do this later?” Myungsoo hisses, throwing a look to where the others are just silently staring at them. “Just—“

“Just what _,_ Myungsoo? Just _what_?” he snaps. “No, we can’t do this later. We’ve already talked about it and you’re just ignoring everything I told you.”

“Yeollie—“

“Literally what part of ‘I need some space’ do you not understand? What part of ‘I need some space’ implies you hanging off my arm 24/7 and just,” he groans when he manages to dip his entire elbow into sauce, completely on accident; immediately, Myungsoo’s got tissues in his hands and is making a grab for his left arm.

(Sungyeol’s privately convinced that his best friend is a freaking genius.)

He yanks his arm away, just roughly enough to come off as annoyed. “This is exactly what I’m talking about—you’re _suffocating_ me. It was fine before, but ever since we started dating it’s like…”

“It’s like what?” Myungsoo asks, voice blank to the point where it’s scary. Someone breathes in sharply. “It’s like what, Sungyeol?”

“It’s like you can’t even leave me alone for one second. And I told you to tone down the PDA because it’s starting to make me uncomfortable, but _clearly_ that’s too much to ask.”

“Well you didn’t have a problem with that when you were practically climbing my lap last week,” Myungsoo shoots back, sneering. “So I guess PDA is only okay when it’s convenient for you?”

“Now you’re just reaching.”

“No, I’m pointing out the fact that you’re being an asshole for no apparent reason—“

“Guys?” asks Dongwoo, meek and wide-eyed.

“No apparent reason my ass—“

“—and maybe we should talk about this later when you’re done being childish and inconsiderate for once.”

“Guys.”

“ _I’m_ inconsiderate?” Sungyeol shouts, standing up so abruptly that he sends his chair falling backwards and clattering onto the floor of the cafeteria. By this point, most of the student population stopped what they were doing to gawk at them.

Seeming to take notice of this, Myungsoo shrinks in his seat and hisses up at him: “Sungyeol, stop. You’re making a scene.”

“Am I?” he asks, even louder than before. “Is this making you uncomfortable?”

“Guys, please.”

“It’s making _everyone_ uncomfortable.”

“Well maybe you should think about the fact that you constantly feeling me up wherever we go is making _me_ uncomfortable. I know you’re clingy as fuck, but it’s getting ridiculous.”

“ _Sungyeol_ ,” this time it’s Sunggyu who speaks out, sounding almost scandalised. He’s not even looking at him, but watching Myungsoo, who’s staring down at his napkin with an unreadable look on his face.

Defensively, Sungyeol says, “It’s not like I’m _wrong_.”

“You’re going too far and you need to stop,” the elder retorts, trying to sound stern but only managing to come off as _very_ concerned.

Almost pressed to his side, like he’d been subconsciously scooting closer during the entire discussion, Woohyun’s _still_ gaping at the two of them like he’s waiting for everything to sink in. On the other side of the table, Sungjong looks flat out _scared_ which—given that the current mood doesn’t allow him to grab Myungsoo’s camera and document it for future use—is a wasted photo op. Hoya is just wordlessly staring at them, phone abandoned on his tray and buzzing with incoming notifications. Next to him, Dongwoo is sending Sungyeol a series of looks that go from confused to downright distressed; with a heavy heart and a promise to explain everything later, Sungyeol ignores him.

“Of course. I’m going too far, like always. I’m always the one in the wrong, aren’t I? I’m the inconsiderate asshole here,” he bites out, shooting a glare Myungsoo’s way. “Right?”

Myungsoo doesn’t answer for a while, making way for hundreds of voices around them to start gossiping in hushed voices, until: “You’re being overdramatic and I’m not having this discussion with you until you calm down.”

“Even if we had this discussion you’d probably just end up ignoring whatever I say and do whatever you want, so what’s the point?”

Dongwoo shoots up from his chair, uncharacteristically sombre. “Sungyeol, you need to—“

“No, you know what?” he steps away from the table, kicking the fallen chair away. “I think I’m done.”

And with a final look at his ‘boyfriend’ and his head held high, he storms out of the cafeteria feeling like… complete and absolute shit. He knows that in the long run, it’s better to follow through with the plan and put this to rest. It would have been even better to call the entire thing off, tell Myungsoo that it’s finally dawned on him what a stupid, absolutely idiotic idea this entire ‘prank’ was and how it’s not even remotely funny and suggest they do something else instead. Only, the part of him that decided to Think Things Through (his mother would be proud) is scared that if he admits that much of the truth, the rest of it will come pouring out and lead to hypothetical situation #1 or #2, which Sungyeol’s avoiding more than the idea of bubonic plague.

So, it’s better like this, and if he can keep telling himself that until the day of their break-up (roughly a week from now) he’s going to start believing it too, eventually. He’s going to have to just because he doesn’t want to risk having Myungsoo look at him like he did in the cafeteria (taken aback, hurt, eyes glistening with unshed tears in spite of appearing expressionless) except for a fight that’s not staged, for some stupid words Sungyeol might say without meaning to that he won’t be able to take back. He’s not going to risk ruining his most important friendship, _Myungsoo’s_ most important friendship, on the off-chance that hypothetical situation #3 might happen.

Once he’s seated himself on a bench outside of campus (the one tucked away next to a row of trees that makes a better hiding place during spring and summer, when there are more leaves on the trees rather than on the ground around him), he lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in and pulls out his phone.

 

_You_

_2:13 PM_

_Dude you were AWESOME!_

_You REALLY should’ve gone for acting. Maybe if you did and I didn’t quit we would’ve met on the set of something instead of college_ ㅋㅋㅋ

_Did you see Sungjong’s face? Priceless_

 

There’s an unpleasant feeling in his gut as he sends a string of emojis and stickers, just so Myungsoo doesn’t bother him later asking if everything is alright since he’d been acting off. Because everything _is_ alright, and Sungyeol _isn’t_ acting off, and he doesn’t know why it even occurred to him to worry about that since it’s definitely not the case.

He stares at his reflection in the puddle under the bench like it’s mocking him.

 

_You_

_2:17 PM_

_We’re probably gonna have to keep acting weird for the next week so we should keep our distance and act mad at each other and stuff._

_Just so it sticks._

He gets the notification that Myungsoo’s read his messages right away and sees him typing… and typing… and typing…

 

_Kim Myungsoo_

_2:22 PM_

_Okay._

And it’s okay.

Even though the last time he and Myungsoo had a fight—a genuine one—it was only three days before they were back on speaking terms because they both decided being mad and not talking to each other sucked so much that they forgot what they were even fighting about in the first place (and to this day, they’ve still got no clue).

Even though Sungyeol is torn between being upset that he’ll have to limit his time around Myungsoo and being relieved that he’ll have a good excuse to avoid him for most of the day until he’s confident enough that he won’t do something stupid around him like impulsively kissing him and declaring his undying love for him (he might not be certain on the extent of his feelings, but Lee Sungyeol doesn’t do anything half-assed; it’s both a blessing and a curse).

Even though Sungyeol’s hope lies in the off-chance that, by the time the entire prank thing will blow over, his feelings for Myungsoo will miraculously disappear or at least return to the dormant, _platonic_ state they were in before so everything can go back to normal and everyone will be none the wiser about it (except for Dongwoo, but he’ll figure something out).

Even though this is the shittiest thing to have happened to him as of late (at least after discovering that his ex-girlfriend cheated), he and his stupidity are fully, one-hundred per cent to blame for all of it, and the more he tries to fix things it just feels like he’s digging himself a deeper hole with no way out.

Things couldn’t be further from okay.

Groaning, he burrows his face into his hands. “I’m the biggest fucking idiot on Earth. I don’t even _deserve_ to be the clueless rom-com protagonist. I should just be that extra that dies first in horror movies.”

“You’re off to a good start ‘cause I kinda want to kill you right now.”

Sungyeol jolts at the unfamiliar drawl, twisting around on the bench until he spots the figure of a guy sitting underneath one of the trees, head resting against its trunk, one eye cracked open to glare at him. The first thing Sungyeol notices about him is his hair—dyed a strange shade of silver, mussed up in about every direction conceivable. The second thing he notices is the fact that there are books and folders strewn around him and spilling out of his bag. The third thing is the huge stain on the guy’s hoodie, which he identifies as coffee and, upon further inspection, the prominent dark circles under his eyes.

There are probably better things he could be asking himself right now, but Sungyeol chooses to wonder exactly how out of it he is that he didn’t notice this guy and his stuff thrown around on the floor when he sat down?

Blinking several times, Sungyeol sputters, “Excuse me?”

“I need a goddamn nap and you’re making it impossible to have one,” the guy grunts out, scowling. “You’re even louder than the loudest person I know, and that says something… even before you started with the horror movie crap.” A pause.“Film major?”

“Interior design,” Sungyeol blurts out, automatically, then the statement catches up with him and he adds an offended: “Hey! This is public property, I have the right to lament about my life without being judged by people who don’t know where to take their naps. Friendly advice—try a bed.”

“Whatever,” the guy rolls his eyes, grumbling as he props himself up and starts showing his stuff back into his bag, looking closest to _dead_ that Sungyeol had ever seen someone look before (including Sunggyu during exam weeks). _A first year_ , he muses, once his eyes fall onto the cover of a textbook he’s seen Sungjong’s roommate carrying around.

He doesn’t even know what possesses him (more stupidity and a lack of self-preservation, likely), but before he can stop himself he opens his mouth and words tumble out. “Hey—hypothetically speaking, if someone had uh… feelings for their best friend, but they were pretty sure that even if they reciprocated things might go south and someone will get hurt and they’d risk losing, well,” his mind conjures the image of a forlorn-looking Myungsoo sitting at their lunch table and it’s enough to make his voice crack a little. “Everything.”

The guy stares at him with a raised eyebrow, frozen half-way in an attempt to sling his bag over his shoulders.

“Given this hypothetical situation, it would be a sensible decision for one to just… not bring it up and try to move on instead of ruining the most important relationship in their lives, right?”

A moment of uncomfortable silence settles between the two of them that makes Sungyeol wish he could turn back time and tell himself to shut the fuck up. The guy is squinting at him, frown deepening.

“Are you fucking with me?”

“No, just,” Sungyeol lets out a whine, throwing his head back. “Never mind, that was a stupid question. And I’m a stupid person. Stupid, stupid, idiot…”

After a few _more_ moments of uncomfortable silence, the guy deadpans “You’re fucking weird,” and just as Sungyeol is about to huff in offence and give the little shit a piece of his mind, “But I think you should go for it.”

The indignation deflates almost instantly; Sungyeol allows himself to slouch against the bench. “Yeah, cause if we’re actually best friends this won’t change anything between us and everything will work itself out easy peasy lemon squeezy, right?” he sighs at the memory of the look on Dongwoo’s face when he stormed out of the cafeteria, sure to haunt him for years to come. “Someone already gave me that bullshit speech, thanks.”

“Well some of us actually live that bullshit speech, so maybe it’s advice worth following.”

Unsure of how to respond to _that_ other than with a less than appropriate ‘Wait, you _have friends_?’, he chooses to stay silent and stare some more at the guy, who seems to be getting slightly bothered by all the attention (he’s yet to tell Sungyeol to fuck off though, so it’s a good so far).

“Look, I’ve been where you are. I actually dated my best friend for a while before things went downhill and we broke up and yeah, it was bad,” he scrunches his nose up at the memory, looking pained. “It was really fucking shit for a while. Then we waited it out, talked things through and eventually things got better. Hell, he even started dating one of my friends last year and we’re all still fine hanging out with each other.”

If Sungyeol’s heart picks up at the use of ‘he’, the guy doesn’t seem to care much—or notice—and he’s sure not going to point it out for fear that he’s going to get the shit punched out of him by a scary-looking freshman who’ll assume he’s a homophobic asshole. Which he’s not.

(He’s not _homophobic_ , at least.)

“Now I’m not saying everything is gonna be daisies and rainbows and shit, okay? Or that it’ll go the same way for you and your best friend, but if you like them so much that you sit there and whine about what you should do to a complete stranger, I’d say it’s worth a shot.”

He shrugs, scratching at the side of his head and looking as disgruntled as ever. Maybe it’s a trick of the light, but a reddish hue seems to have crept up his neck. “But again, I’m not some professional love shrink, just someone who’s been told too many times he needs to be less of a dick to people so I’m making an effort here. Take it or leave it, whatever.”

_That_ feels like Sungyeol’s cue to say something. “Yeah, uh—thanks, I guess. That helped… I think.”

“Don’t mention it,” says the guy, still looking every bit like he’s swallowed a lemon, or like his own existence is an inconvenience. “As long as it gets you to pipe down and stop ruining people’s naps.”

“Why were you sleeping here to begin with?” slips out without Sungyeol giving it much thought, then he hurriedly adds: “Like, no offense this time. I’m just wondering cause there’s plenty of better places to sleep inside. Library’s quiet and they don’t care if you take naps.”

The guy starts fiddling with the strap of his bag once again, securing it on his shoulder. “I was actually supposed to go to lunch with that best friend I told you about and his boyfriend,” and _now_ the guy makes an awkward pause, staring at Sungyeol like he’s debating whether it’s fine to continue while simultaneously daring him to talk shit.

A moment later, he seems to come to the correct conclusion that Sungyeol’s not a bigot—or suicidal—and carries on. “My friend goes here too but the other guy doesn’t, so we were waiting for him to show up.”

“I sense a but here.”

“ _But_ ,” the guy pointedly rolls his eyes. “Einstein got lost as soon as he stepped foot on campus, so my friend went to look for him about…”

He takes out his phone from his back pocket and glares down at it. “Two fucking hours ago. _Wow_. I don’t know what they’re doing that’s taking so long but it’s probably going to give me a headache or the urgent need to throw up.”

“That sucks man,” Sungyeol says, empathically and, keeping WooGyu’s infamous honeymoon phase in mind, meaning every single word.

“It’ll suck more for them when I make them pay for my food,” he scoffs in reply and, for once, his default face (some mixture of disgusted and catatonic) gives way to a smirk.

That subtle change in expression is just not only enough to make Sungyeol believe that this disgruntled freshman is actually human, but also to think that there’s _something_ about him reminiscent of his own behaviour. Except Sungyeol likes to think he’s less of a cheeky bastard to people and respects his elders; Sunggyu’s opinion notwithstanding.

He gets up from his seat on the bench, deciding he’s done a little more than enough moping, and faces the freshman. “Hey, what’s your name?”

Said freshman looks like he’s having a hard time deciding if it’s worth telling Sungyeol his name—or more like he’d rather pull out his own teeth instead—before he lets out a long sigh. “It’s Min—“

“Lee Sungyeol, you little shit!”

Dread coils in his stomach as he jolts at the sound of what’s clearly the voice of a quickly approaching and _very_ pissed off Sunggyu. And sure enough, when he whirls around to peek from behind the tree, he can see his friend—even more pissed off looking than he’d anticipated—striding over to them from the other side of the courtyard with _murder_ in his eyes while yelling something about “hissy fits” and kicking Sungyeol’s ass.

“Motherfuck…” he mutters, making a grab for the other guy’s arm and pulling him closer—only to instantly realise that he’s roughly two heads taller, which would make hiding behind him pretty pointless. By this point, Min-something is raising an eyebrow up at him, most likely about to make a grab for Sungyeol’s hand and break his fingers in a slow, agonising manner. He hastily lets go.

“If he asks, you didn’t see me,” he hisses in his direction as he prepares to take off and prays to God that Sunggyu is still so out of shape that he can easily outrun him in a sprint.

“Not sure how much good that’s gonna do because I’m pretty sure he can already see you—“

(“I can’t _believe_ you—just wait until I—“)

“—but sure.”

With that last dispassionate remark from his new friend? acquaintance? pseudo psychologist? Sungyeol shouts out a “Thanks” and zooms past rows of trees and tiny bushes, ignoring the weird looks he gets from the passersby (and the one nasally ‘No running on the grass’ because— _really?_ ).

Now, Sungyeol is not a coward. Running from a friend who wants to yell his lungs off at you for being a huge asshole while you have to pretend to be righteous about it even though you agree one hundred percent with him is _not_ cowardly—it’s just avoiding an inconvenient situation and preventing himself from fucking up even more. Not cowardice.

If he really was being a coward about this, he’s pretty sure the universe would punish him one way or another. For instance, by having the sleeve of a brand new sweater catch on a twig and rip all the way up to his shoulder, just for kicks.

As he places an empty can of beer in the trash can of his dorm room, right next to a very new and now very _ruined_ cashmere sweater, Sungyeol contemplates his life choices for the umpteenth time that day.

And if he pretends to be asleep by the time Myungsoo comes back home—that is _definitely_ cowardice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been inactive as hell on both of these but you can still send me messages and I'll make sure to reply:
> 
> [Tumblr](http://freewinner2k16.tumblr.com)  
> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/tiredangryegg)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone faces the consequences of their actions. Well, some more than others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is done! After months and months of waiting, it's finally completed. I've rushed through the proof-reading, so sorry in advance if there are blunders here and there. I'm also hoping that I somehow managed to keep the style consistent despite how much time has passed between updates, or that it's enjoyable anyway.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has stuck around for this even though me and my terrible procrastination are not worthy of your patience. Also thank you to everyone who's just discovered this story and has read to this point--just thank you for reading, in general.
> 
> I'm a little sad that I couldn't get off my ass and finish this story while Infinite were still a group of seven, but at least my prediction that I'll finish it before their next comeback was spot on, heh. And a PSA: Everyone support Infinite and Hoya in their respective activities from this moment onward because they're all talented and amazing and deserve it! 
> 
> ...Which is why I would like to apologise to them for creating this hot mess of a fic. But hey, at least it's a finished hot mess of a fic now.

Myungsoo is not the sharpest tool in the shed, so he’s been told many times before. He begs to differ at this. Just because he sometimes has the attention span of a drunk goldfish and is easily swayed by the promise of a warm meal does not make him dumb—just not incredibly intelligent. Even so, he doesn’t have to be incredibly intelligent to figure out that Sungyeol, his so called best friend, has taken to avoiding him like he’s got an infectious disease ever since their staged fight in the cafeteria.

He’d kind of love to be incredibly intelligent so he could figure out what to do about it, though.

It was all supposed to get better after they started faking their way to the break up, except it didn’t. Not only was the whole cafeteria stunt pure torture for Myungsoo to sit through, but convincing his friends that they shouldn’t beat Sungyeol to a bloody pulp wasn’t all that fun either. To make it more insulting, he wasn’t even able to completely pacify Sunggyu, who firmly stood by his ‘ _I don’t care how much of this is your fault, he should just talk it over like a civilised human being’_ and went to track down Sungyeol to give him a stern lecture. Sometimes, Sunggyu takes his designated father figure role a little too seriously and Myungsoo kind of wants to hit him for it.

There’s also the issue of Sungyeol texting him that they should keep their distance for a while to make it more believable which, alright, made a lot of sense but also felt like a punch to the stomach when he read it. What _didn’t_ make sense was Sungyeol conveniently being asleep when Myungsoo got back home later that day, or Sungyeol leaving for his classes way earlier than he needs to, or Sungyeol coming home and taking a ridiculously long shower that’s still not over by the time Myungsoo drifts off to sleep, or Sungyeol conveniently having a sleepover at Minhyuk’s even though they both know he can’t stand the guy… and when all of this became a recurring thing, it became a little hard to ignore and led to one terrifying conclusion.

Sungyeol _knows_.

Not only does he know, but it makes him so uncomfortable that he can’t even stand to be in Myungsoo’s presence—after all, there’s no point in giving each other the cold shoulder when it’s just the two of them in their dorm room (and it took Myungsoo an embarrassing amount of time for the coin to drop).

After several more failed attempts of talking to Sungyeol, which involved standing outside the men’s room like a total creep and waiting for him to come out until he was forced to leave for class, Myungsoo has to admit that he’s at a loss.

So, he does what he normally does when he’s at a loss.

“Are you stupid?”

If someone asked him, Myungsoo wouldn’t know to answer exactly _how_ is Sungjong looking at him with the sourest, most judgmental look he can muster of any help, but it’s known to have yielded results in the past. Maybe it’s humbling to have someone younger than you let you know what a huge idiot you are by the simple raise of an eyebrow; or maybe, Myungsoo thinks to himself as Sungjong takes _his_ coffee (the one he’d bought for him was finished about two minutes into the discussion) and downs it in one gulp, this is some well deserved self-inflicted punishment.

“Don’t bother answering that, actually. You _are_ stupid,” he raises the cup and, for a second, Myungsoo thinks he’s going to throw it at him. He doesn’t. “Both of you are the biggest idiots I’ve ever met. Well done. You’ve officially out-idiot’ed that moron Seungjun—“

“I _got_ it, okay?” Myungsoo sighs. “I know I fucked up and I _know_ this was a bad idea in the first place, but can you give me a break from the verbal abuse and get to the part where you give me advice?”

Sungjong takes a moment to stare at him open-mouthed, cup still in hand.

“You want _advice_ for this _?_ So much for being older making you wiser,” he grumbles. He throws the cup, though not at Myungsoo, and it lands in the garbage bin next to his bed with a satisfying thump. “I can’t believe you’re this hopeless—just _talk_ to him.”

“See, _that—_ That is the problem,” cue an exaggerated eye roll from Sungjong, who opens his mouth to retort. Myungsoo cuts him off before he can begin. “You think I haven’t _tried_? He’s avoiding me.”

“Sungyeol’s avoiding me,” he says it again, more to himself, and that’s when the dread _really_ begins to sink in.

Though he and Sungyeol have only known each other for a little over a year, Myungsoo was convinced sometime during the first few months that he’d found himself a friend for life. This isn’t something he’d been a hundred percent happy with at first, as the thought of being stuck with someone as _lively_ (read: obnoxious) as Sungyeol felt a little overwhelming; now that he’s confronted with the possibility of losing him if he doesn’t manage to fix this, he can’t even begin to imagine a future without Sungyeol. Without Sungyeol walking by his side, or complaining about trivial things that get on his nerves, or laughing his ass off every time Myungsoo trips and gracefully faceplants on the ground—before holding out a hand to help him up. A future without the smile that makes Myungsoo feel safe and all warm inside each and every time.

“My best friend is avoiding me and I can’t even—I don’t know,” his hands, resting in his lap, have started shaking by this point; he curls them into fists. “Even if I talk to him, what if it’s not enough? What if he still doesn’t want to be around me?”

“Don’t be—“ Sungjong stops mid-way, face softening. “Come on, this is you two we’re talking about. He’s probably avoiding you for an idiotic reason and I bet it’s killing him. I’m sure it’ll get sorted out if you talk to each other and the next thing you know, you’re back to putting laxatives in Woohyun’s lunch or… I don’t know, annoying the hell out of everyone.”

The kind, almost cautious quality of his voice and the distinct lack of sarcasm is a clear indicator that Sungjong is being serious for once. And, Myungsoo thinks as he watches the first year awkwardly squirm under his gaze, the effort is kind of endearing.

“What I’m trying to say is that you guys not talking doesn’t make sense—probably goes against the unwritten laws of nature or something. So you’re bound to figure this out,” then, sounding meeker, less like his usual confident self, “You’ve got to.”

In the time he’s known Sungjong, there have been few instances in which Myungsoo had an incredible urge to hug him—like that time he surprised all of them with bags of takeout that, they eventually found out, had been bought using Sunggyu’s card. Now, seeing him sit cross-legged on the opposite side of his bed, trying to be supportive and to show his concern in a more conventional manner even though he’s clearly out of his element, is one of those times.

But Myungsoo’s already made enough stupid decisions (like saying yes to Sungyeol’s _god awful plan_ ), so he decides not to risk it.

“I just want him around, even if things are going to be weird for a while.”

Sungjong shrugs. “He’ll come around. He’s your best friend for a reason, isn’t he?”

“He’s more than my best friend,” he says without meaning to, and then the words just come pouring out like something has broken inside of him.

(Or maybe it’s just because he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep for a week now because he’s been up thinking and thinking and thinking until this became the only thing on his mind. Myungsoo doesn’t do things halfway.)  

“He’s one of the most important people in my life and I don’t think I’d be half as happy as I am now if I hadn’t met him. I mean, last year I barely talked to anyone and didn’t really care about anything except photography and getting through college and then I meet this _ridiculous_ guy and the next thing I know we become friends and I become friends with his friends and I start opening up to people and then I decide to say yes to this fake dating thing only to realise that this entire time I’ve been in lo—“

“Okay, okay, _stop,_ ” Sungjong interrupts and—there it is, the scrunched up nose and the lip curl.

He suppresses a smile. As nice as having considerate Sungjong around can be, his usual mock disgust seems to put him at ease just a little more.

“I’m really trying here, but this is getting a little too mushy for comfort. I’m not the person you should be telling this to, okay?” he points to the door. “Go track down the other dense idiot and tell him. I’ll even help you chain him down, out of the kindness of my heart.”

In response, Myungsoo keeps his face as impassive as he can and his tone serious, and says “But I didn’t even get to tell you what I like about him so—“

“Don’t even—“ he stops, the indignation fading away into a—surprise—eye roll, just as fast as it had appeared. “Now you’re fucking with me. I hear you out and try to help and this is the thanks I get—and you wonder why _I_ don’t respect any of you.”

Theoretically, he could point out that a. he’d bought the ungrateful brat a 6,400 won coffee _and_ (reluctantly) also let him have his own, b. half of Sungjong’s ‘help’ was just him repeatedly throwing insults at Myungsoo which, while not untrue, didn’t exactly shed any light onto the issue and c. they respect (read: fear) him a whole damn lot more than he does.

What he ends up with instead is a half-smile and, “Sorry. Thanks for hearing me out, Sungjongie. Really.”

“Don’t be creepy,” Sungjong frowns, shifting into a more comfortable sitting position, “It wasn’t that big of a deal—I mean I _am_ your friend after all,” then, in typical Sungjong fashion, adds “And also the logical choice since I’m the only remaining sane person in our group that’s immune to lovesickness and the stupidity that comes with it.”

Myungsoo shrugs. “There’s still Hoya.”

(And there’s Dongwoo, but fact is that both of them love and respect Dongwoo way too much to even hypothetically drag him in this entire mess.)

“Oh _, please_ ,” the younger huffs out dramatically. When Myungsoo gives no response, he continues: “He’s almost worse than all of you put together. I mean, the day he says no to Dongwoo-hyung is the day,” he forcefully tugs at a few strands of his dark hair, no longer as short as it had been during summer, “I willingly shave off my hair. All of it.”

* * *

“Please.”

Lee Howon is in the middle of a Situation (the capital S is definitely necessary) in which he’s having the hardest time trying to muster up enough guts to give Dongwoo a clear and definite _No_ in response to his harebrained idea. Common logic dictates that this shouldn’t be a hard thing to do—but common logic probably never had to deal with Jang Dongwoo’s ridiculously disarming puppy eyes, quivering lip and fluffy hair combo. Hoya might be a tough guy with his priorities in check, but he’s not a _monster,_ for Christ’s sake.

(And people have the nerve to ask him why he spends so much time on his phone—at least he can let _that_ go to voicemail when he doesn’t want to answer and deal with it later.)

“ _Please_ ,” Dongwoo tries again, inching closer. Out of instinct, he tries to back away—but he hits the wall and that’s when he knows he’s done for. “You know we need to fix this thing before it’s too late, and this is the only way I can think of.”

Closing his eyes, Hoya counts to ten and lets out a breath. “Does it… does it _have_ to be my place? I mean, they live together. Why can’t we just—“

“Sungyeol’s avoiding the dorms for as long as he can help it or—well, at least whenever he knows Myungsoo will be there,” the elder interrupts, all quiet and sad and so unlike him that it’s difficult to listen to. “Plus, it’s his room, so he’s got a key.”

“That’s… a good point,” he concedes with a sigh. Dongwoo’s still staring at him a little pitifully, thought he’s not moving an inch from where he’s standing, like he’s expecting Hoya to flee the moment he’s given an opening. He would find this insulting to his manly pride if it weren’t a little bit true.

(Like, a hundred percent true.)

“It can’t be my room either because I can’t lock Minseok out and ask him to go somewhere else until my friends sort out their issues,” he bites his lip, looking sheepish. “Well, I could, but I don’t think it’d be right, and I’ve already cashed in so many favours from him that I’d feel terrible to—“

“Of course not, hyung,” he nods his agreement while urging his brain, same one that’s got him a scholarship and advanced placement classes in the past, to come up with a way to get him out of this. Suggesting Sungjong or Woohyun is out of the question since they’d run into the same roommate problem, but—

“What about Sunggyu?” he proposes, heart filling with premature relief when there’s a shift on Dongwoo’s facial expression like he’s considering it. “I mean sure, normally he’d say no and probably yell at us for even asking, but I’m sure he’ll make an exception if it could fix whatever’s going on with those two.”

He almost starts silently thanking every existing deity for this stroke of genius. Almost.

“No, that won’t work,” Dongwoo says after a moment of silence, effectively shattering any hope he still had that he might get out of this without having to play the bad guy and _actually_ say no to him. His shoulders slump in defeat. “His bedroom doesn’t have a lock, and it might be a moot point if we can’t force them to be in the same room together. Like, what if Sungyeol just hides in the bathroom and refuses to talk until we let them out?”

Hoya thinks of his own apartment, the one he shares with two other people. Then he thinks of those people, those rambunctious little fucks who gave him the idea of getting a lock installed just so he doesn’t have to put up with them barging into his room at inappropriate hours and for the stupidest reasons, and he curses them to hell and back. And then curses himself and his stupid need for privacy, for good measure.

He makes one last, feeble attempt.

“Are you sure this is the only thing we can do?”

“Unless you’ve got a better idea,” Dongwoo replies, shrugging helplessly.

And no, Hoya doesn’t have a better idea, but that doesn’t change the fact that _this_ idea is stupid—and he’s not only saying that because he really doesn’t want Sungyeol and Myungsoo alone in his room (though he _really_ doesn’t want them alone in his room), but because the entire scheme feels ripped out of a cheap made-for-TV movie and might not even work in the first place. As soul-crushing as this might be for Dongwoo to hear, it needs to be said.

With his mind made up, he clenches his jaw and summons the strength to tell him just that. A simple refusal, frank and to the point, just like ripping a band-aid.

* * *

“How come you changed your mind?”

He turns to look at Sungyeol with a raised eyebrow, having almost forgotten that he was there in the first place. But he is, diligently taking off his shoes and putting them on the shoe-rack next to the door. Normally, he doesn’t even bother with the second part, just leaving them smack dab in front of the door for everyone to trip over—he’s not sure if it’s a sign of suspicion or just a testament of how much this whole Myungsoo thing is affecting him.

The latter, he decides, after Sungyeol takes a look at his face and starts to wave his hands around dismissively. “Not that I’m complaining or anything, but last time—scratch that, _every time_ I asked to borrow your PS4 you threatened to kick my ass if I even laid a finger on it.”

Yes, Hoya distinctly remembers the numerous times when Sungyeol had whined, and whined, and _whined_ for him to lend him his precious (and very expensive, mind you) game console, even though he has a track record of returning things in a sorry state or constantly ‘forgetting’ to give them back. Naturally, he’d turned him down with a flat out no and, when he insisted, an explicit threat of how much he was going to hurt Sungyeol so that even his ancestors would curl up in pain if he dared touch it, which earned him a high five from Sungjong. In fact, his stance on that has remained unchanged, down to the very last word.

But Hoya is a man on a mission now—a reluctant one, shackled by his own incapability of saying no to Jang Dongwoo and his borderline illegal puppy eyes, but a man on a mission nonetheless.

(Plus, he made sure to get the PS4 and anything remotely valuable out of his room before he went through with this. He’s not _stupid_.)

“Just thought you might need the pick-me-up,” he replies with a shrug, not missing the way there’s a subtle change in the expression on his friend’s face, like he’s struggling not to let the smile on his face fall flat.

It makes Hoya almost feel bad for what he’s about to do, if it weren’t for the fact that a. he’s doing this specifically so this whole situation gets sorted out, and b. Sungyeol’s repeatedly managed to get on his nerves over the years and he needs this to feel vindicated. More of the former than the latter, because—though he is loath to admit it at times—he does actually care about his friends’ emotional well-being.

Even if his friends are (with one notable exception) complete idiots who really deserve a kick in the—

Sungyeol’s waving a hand in front of his face. He pushes it aside, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes.

“It’s in my room, next to the desk. Go ahead, I need to check something first,” and he turns like he’s about to go into the kitchen.

Except he doesn’t, and the second Sungyeol steps into his bedroom, he makes a dash for the door, slams it closed (“Whoa—hey, what the—what are _you_ doing here? Hoya, what the actual he—“) and locks it. He pockets the key and texts Dongwoo that the plan is in motion, all while nonchalantly ignoring the desperate banging on his door and the slew of profanities directed at him.

“I’m going out to meet with some of the kids from my dance crew,” he basically has to yell the first part to make himself heard, until Sungyeol gets the memo and quiets down. “That gives you a few hours to sort out whatever’s going on with you two, so you better start talking.”

Then, with an afterthought, adds: “Don’t do anything weird.” He thinks he hears Sungyeol telling him to go fuck himself, but he doesn’t have the time or the energy to address it.

As he exits his apartment, he sends out a series of text messages. One to Sungjong, to whom he’d entrusted his stuff in exchange for letting him use the PS4, asking for photographic evidence that his things are all there and in the same condition he’d left them. Two identical ones to Gwangsuk and  Youngjun telling them to ignore any calls from help coming from his room if they happen to come home early, giving them the bare minimum of context so they don’t think he’s gone rouge and started taking hostages. And finally, one to Woohyun, in light of the very _interesting_ things Dongwoo had told him about the Myungsoo-Sungyeol situation before he’d pitched the plan, demanding a full refund of the bet money.

The text he gets back is a word for word reproduction of what Sungyeol had shouted after him when he left. And a crying emoji because, ugh, _Woohyun._

* * *

It’s been at least fifteen minutes since they were left alone, and Sungyeol hasn’t budged from where he’s standing slumped against the door, with his back to Myungsoo. He’s starting to wonder whether they _can_ read each other’s minds after all, since he’s resolved to wait at least until he turns to look at him before he begins to talk, and so far Sungyeol has been doing a great job of not cooperating. His stubbornness, while familiar, is unwelcome; and though his back is nice to look at and all, broad and with muscles standing out through his fitted shirt, it’s really not helping matters.

Myungsoo sighs.

“Sungyeol.”

He goes a little rigid, subtly so, but he doesn’t reply—much less turn around to look at him.

“Yeol. Hey,” he tries again, with the same result. He can literally feel the frustration that’s been steadily growing inside him since their ‘break-up’ start bursting at the metaphorical seams. “Sungyeol, I—oh, for fuck’s sake, would you stop acting like a child and at least look at me?!”

This time, he does—he turns around very slowly, eyes wide and looking at Myungsoo with a strange mixture of emotions, but looking at him nonetheless. He presses his lips together in a straight line, eyes narrowed.

“Is this why you got Hoya to lock me in here with you? So you can insult me?” he scoffs. “Nice, Myungsoo.”

The metaphorical seams give. Groaning, Myungsoo drags both of his hands over his face hard enough that he might have left scratches on his cheeks.

“I’m not trying to insult you, I’m trying to talk to you. And I wouldn’t have had to resort to this if you weren’t avoiding me like the plague.”

Sungyeol tries to hide a wince. “I’m not avoiding you.”

“You missed class because you locked yourself in the bathroom just so you wouldn’t have to talk to me…” he retorts, enunciating every word and making zero effort to keep the incredulity out of his voice.

“I had stomach problems.”

Literally every cell in Myungsoo’s body is calling bullshit on this, and Sungyeol’s not even trying to be convincing. He’s just being stubborn, like always. And like always, there’s a part of Myungsoo that finds this endearing and the same part—the _weak_ part—is relishing in the fact that his friend is talking to him again, even if it’s to tell blatant lies and do a poor job of it. So, Myungsoo doesn’t yell, doesn’t grab Hoya’s bedside lamp to whack Sungyeol over the head with it, no matter how tempting it is, he doesn’t even move.

Instead, he stares. He takes in his best friend’s messy hair, the faint bangs under his eyes, the little bit of stubble that he hadn’t bothered to shave that morning, the slight crease between his eyebrows. It’s unbelievable, ridiculous, _unfair_ that even seeing him in a state that Sungyeol himself would call his worst, his stomach still does somersaults and his heart aches because in the midst of all his ignoring and avoiding and his sleepovers at Minhyuk’s, he’s really missed this idiot.

“Hey.”

He blinks, and Sungyeol’s frowning face comes into focus.

“You said you wanted to talk,” he casts his eyes downwards, sounding reluctant. “It’s not like I can leave so… “

Assuming that’s as good as he can get, especially since Sungyeol already looks like he’s regretting his words and is about to say something else, Myungsoo leaps at the chance.

“Well, I—First, I’m sorry I got Hoya to lock us in here,” comes out before everything else, since the other man’s reluctance is really weighing down on him. “But I needed you to listen to what I had to say because I need to fix this… I can’t let things between us stay like this, Yeol.”

Something in Sungyeol’s expression crumbles. “Wait, Myungsoo—“

“No,” he holds up a hand, trying to ignore the way his heart is hammering inside his chest. He has to do this. “Just don’t say anything until I’m done, okay?”

He takes a deep breath.

“I shouldn’t have agreed to this whole fake dating prank. I knew it was a mistake from the very beginning—you know why? Because I’ve kind of had a crush on you for a while—“

Sungyeol opens his mouth.

“—I said let me finish, didn’t I? Okay, so crush is probably not the right word. Attraction? Like, I would if I could but I don’t necessarily want to because we’re best friends and I don’t need anything beyond that? So not a big deal, but it was still there and part of me knew that it wouldn’t mesh well with pretending to date you.

“And obviously it didn’t, because the next thing you know I’m head over heels for my best friend while I have the perfect excuse to act on it and,” his voice shakes, fists clenching around the bed sheets. He averts his gaze, no longer able to look Sungyeol in the face considering what he’s about to say. “And I took it. Even though I should have called it off right away, I just went with it and took advantage—took advantage of you just to feed into my false hope that maybe you’ll end up liking me back or something, I don’t know.”

Sometime during his speech, he’s grabbed one of Hoya’s pillows—large and bulky and not nearly fluffy enough—and started hugging it to his chest, a small comfort for his all-consuming desire to touch. He’s always been a hugger, his mother said, even back when he was a baby.

Maybe it’s better that Hoya owns terrible, stiff pillows because the exertion of getting all of these goddamned words out is making him squeeze it hard enough to hurt.

“I don’t know, Sungyeol, and I’m sorry. This whole thing clearly started making you uncomfortable at one point and I was too caught up in my own head to notice and too selfish to stop. So this is me apologising for being an inconsiderate asshole and hoping we could go back to how it used to be. Go back to being friends.”

With a final squeeze, he props his head on top of the pillow and looks at Sungyeol again. He looks pale and stricken, and Myungsoo doesn’t really blame him. In fact, he probably looks terrible himself if he looks at least half like how he feels.

“I understand if you can’t forgive me or if this—me having feelings for you and stuff makes you uncomfortable, but I really want to try to fix this because this isn’t worth losing you over… I mean… I…”

He falls silent, expecting Sungyeol to say something. Anything.

Nothing.

With a groan, he burrows his face back into the pillow. “Damn it, Yeol. I know I messed up so you can—I’m done talking so just… say something.”

He lets Myungsoo stew in his own worries for a couple minutes more—a couple minutes too many—before he actually says something.

“Do friends fantasise about making out with their friends and going on lame dates together without any romantic feelings involved?”

Myungsoo lifts his head, slowly. “What?”

Now Sungyeol’s the one not looking at him, keeping his eyes determinedly planted on the floor below. “It’s a question, just—answer.”

“Probably not,” he finally says, sufficiently confused to pause his thoughts from spiralling down into a dark mass of self-loathing and despair over the fate of his and Sungyeol’s friendship. _Stop being so emo,_ says a voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Sungjong’s.

Sungyeol lifts his head. He’s clearly red in the face, but the look on his face is one of pure nonchalance. “Then I guess I have feelings for you too,” he says, like he’s commenting on the weather.

And to that, Myungsoo says “No, you don’t” because his ears are ringing and his head is rapidly filling with a hundred different thoughts while giving him no time to actually process anything, and there really isn’t anything else to say to that, because there just _isn’t._ Sungyeol liking him back was ruled out the moment he started avoiding him and—and—

The other man scrunches up his nose and squints at him, looking almost insulted. “Wha—Kim Myungsoo, _what the actual fuck?_ I think I know my own feelings.”

“Then why did you suggest we start breaking up?” Myungsoo asks, still unable to fully pick his jaw up off the floor.

“Because that was the _plan_ and I thought you wanted to stick to it?” Sungyeol’s decisive tone fades into a question halfway through, and the look on his face into something sheepish.

“…And why did you avoid me when I wanted to talk?”

“I—I panicked, okay?” he groans, rubbing at the back of his head. “This whole ‘actually wanting to date you’ and stuff wasn’t in the plan and I was worried that I’d end up doing something stupid if I talked to you so I panicked. I swear it made sense at the time.”

There’s a muffled “Ow!” when the pillow Myungsoo was holding connects with his face. It harmlessly slides down and Sungyeol catches it in his arms before it can hit the floor, sending a glare his way in the process.

“I’m being honest here and what do you do? You tell me I’m wrong about my own feelings and _throw stuff at me_ , geez,” his face softens as he approaches the bed, placing the pillow back in its proper spot before he sits down next to Myungsoo. “I’m sorry, Myung. I should’ve talked to you sooner and then you wouldn’t have blamed yourself for all of this… Heck, it was my stupid plan to begin with,” he lets out a laugh and it’s weak and toes the line between forced and genuine. “If anything, I’m the inconsiderate asshole.”

This time, when Myungsoo sighs, there’s a fondness to it that he can’t help any more than the smile that breaks out on his face.

“You always blow things out of proportion, don’t you?” he punches his arm, weakly. “Stupid.”

“Hey, cut me some slack here,” Sungyeol protests, lips shaping into a pout. “I already insulted myself, didn’t I? There’s no need to rub salt in the wound.”

“No, I mean both of us,” and then to drive the point home to himself: “Stupid. _Really_ stupid.”

“Well… you’re not wrong there.”

They sit in silence for a while, with Myungsoo musing on the fact that they’d made such a complicated situation out of such a simple problem and how it doesn’t even surprise him, and he’s so lost in his thoughts that he almost misses what Sungyeol says next.

“How do you feel about starting over?”

“Sure,” says Myungsoo. He holds out a hand, “I’m Kim Myungsoo.”

The deadpan look he gets from Sungyeol should be framed and hung up in a museum. “Not that far back, smartass,” and then they’re both laughing, like they maybe should have done the entire time because this is all so _ridiculous._

“You know,” Sungyeol mumbles, eyes lighting up like something’s just dawned on him. “We’re never like _properly_ broken up, have we? Never made it official or had the break-up talk or anything, right?”

“We haven’t,” he acknowledges and—oh, _now_ he’s catching on. “You want to just pick up where we’d left off?”

His boyfriend, because apparently that’s what he still technically has to call him, gives him a cheeky grin. “And where was that, exactly?”

_Well, two can play this game,_ Myungsoo thinks as he leans in closer and keeps his face as neutral as humanly possible. “Hmm, unless my memory is playing tricks on me, I think it was Sunggyu’s kitchen…”

Sungyeol’s grin widens and, with a shake of his hand, he puts his hands on either side of his face and closes the gap between them, murmuring something against his lips. The thought of asking him what he was trying to say stays with Myungsoo about five seconds before his brain cells take a lunch break and leave him to melt into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Sungyeol to pull him closer, and closer, until they’re both falling down on the bed with a thump.

He can’t help but let out a whine when Sungyeol suddenly pulls away, though he stays close enough that Myungsoo can feel his breath on his face when he lets out a puff of laughter. “We’re doing this so ass-backwards.”

“It’s us. I think it would’ve been weirder if we did it the right way.”

“You’re probably right,” there’s a sparkle of _something_ in Sungyeol’s eye when moves in to recapture his lips, and Myungsoo closes his eyes, smiling into the kiss—and then his boyfriend feels like it’s absolutely necessary to pull away for a second time, frowning.

(Myungsoo’s frowning, too, but for a whole other reason. He is also seconds away from grabbing Sungyeol’s collar and not letting him go until he’s done kissing him stupid, at the very least.)

“How did our friends even believe that we got together like normal people?” he asks, sounding genuinely curious, and that does it.

Laughter bubbles out of Myungsoo, and he can hear the other joining in when he struggles to answer “Beats me”, then ends up laughing even harder imagining their friends’ reactions to the story of how they had _actually_ got together. Their friends, whom they’d unwittingly dragged into this mess of a situation and caused a lot of grief to and wow, they’ve got some serious apologising left to do.

But that thought gets pushed far into the back of his head when Sungyeol starts mouthing at his neck. Myungsoo, who managed to sneak his hands under his shirt so he can trail his fingers over the arch of his spine, tilts his head for easier access and lets out a contented sigh.

* * *

From that point onwards, things had just gone from good, to better, to amazing, to something so special that Myungsoo’s not articulate enough to put it into words. Instead, he takes joy in every little bit of it, in the way Sungyeol’s touches and kisses no longer feel bittersweet, in the way he doesn’t have to remind himself that none of this is real, in the way there is no guilt to suppress when they make their way through campus, side by side, and he makes a grab for his hand.

And, sitting next to each other, closely pressed together so that you can’t tell when one of them ends and the other begins, is making it a whole lot easier to deal with Hoya glaring daggers at them from across the table.

“I’m literally never going to forgive you,” he tells them for the sixth time that day, once he takes a break from angrily digging into his food like he’s imagining it’s the two of them lying under his fork.

Myungsoo’s starting to think he’s going a little too far but, for all he knows, this might be the proper response to a traumatic experience like going inside your bedroom and seeing your friends half-naked and making out on top of your bed. No amount of feeling sorry for Hoya can make him actually regret it, however.

He’s also a little too preoccupied digging into his own lunch, so he lets Sungyeol handle this one.

“We’ve done nothing but apologise to you since yesterday. What more do you want?” he whines, theatrical hand gestures and all. Hoya remains unimpressed. “Anyway, didn’t you say this was Dongwoo-hyung’s idea?”

Sungjong scoffs. Loudly. “Like he’s going to be mad at Dongwoo-hyung.”

Clearly he isn’t, and it was dumb on Sungyeol’s part to even try and shift the blame on him—Myungsoo, still shovelling food into his mouth with one hand, tries to get this across by pinching his side, which earns him a betrayed look that quickly morphs into a resigned one. After all, Sungyeol knows nobody can stay mad at Dongwoo; they all know nobody can stay mad at Dongwoo.

Except Dongwoo himself, who’s been giving Hoya apologetic glances and piling an obnoxious amount of fries on his tray all throughout lunch. Myungsoo watches him add a couple more fries while Hoya is preoccupied with trying to kill Sungyeol using his eyes, and wonders how long it will take for the tower of fries to collapse in on itself.

“Yeah, Sungyeol,” Woohyun pipes in, “just admit that you’ve done fucked up,” and he’s smiling so brightly that Hoya turns to him and somehow delivers a glare even scarier than the one _they’ve_ been getting all day. Sunggyu nudges his boyfriend to stop, visibly concerned.

(Myungsoo’s got a theory that he’s smug about no longer being the only one to have been ‘mentally scarred’ by seeing them half-naked and on top of each other—even though the first time had been a scam.

What doesn’t even cross his mind is the possibility that them getting together three days before the bet was up had completely killed any chance of Hoya getting a refund on the money he’s lost, and that it having happened on _his_ _bed_ of all places only fuelled his murderous intent towards all three of them.)

“I still can’t believe you guys even thought this was a good idea for a prank,” their resident freshman says after a while of everyone focusing on their meal. “I mean, even if it went according to plan, what part of it was even supposed to be funny?”

Myungsoo gives him a level look. “We’ve been over this before.”

And they had been over this before—yesterday, just after Hoya had let them out of his room, to be precise. They’d all gathered in Hoya’s apartment (to his further annoyance and the amusement of his flatmates) to demand explanations and give the happy couple a piece of their mind. Sunggyu had been the most dedicated, with a twenty-six minute lecture on how irresponsible this was of them and how they’re going to cause him an early death, and at one point it became so intense that they were all worried he was going to start crying, which was a downright horrifying prospect. Woohyun called Sungyeol a terrible friend and demanded more compensation food and Sungjong called them both idiots in at least five different ways, even though he’d known about this being a farce for a good while and this came as no surprise to him. Dongwoo, bless his heart, decided to spare them from any further lectures and was the first one to congratulate them on actually getting together.

“Yeah, but the sheer stupidity of it still amazes me.”

“I’m just glad it’s all over,” says Sunggyu, heaving a sigh, and with an afterthought adds “and that it wasn’t my apartment this time around.”

Two seats over, Hoya goes rigid with anger and tightens his grip around the fork he’s holding while Sunggyu drones on about how he’s never letting the two of them alone in his kitchen, or any room in his apartment for that matter, ever again. A couple more fries get bumped on his tray.

Myungsoo is snapped out of his quiet observations by the feeling of fingers curling around his own—he looks up to where a telling smile is creeping on Sungyeol’s face and finds one tugging at the corners of his own mouth. Heart swelling with affection even from such a small gesture, Myungsoo leans his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder, nuzzling his face against the fabric of his sweater.

The peace is short-lived.

“Ugh,” goes Sungjong, face contorting in exaggerated disgust. “I’m glad they’re not fighting and everything, but I sure didn’t miss this.”

He wants to roll his eyes at this, but abandons all thoughts of it when Sungyeol nudges his head off his shoulder. There’s an unpleasant feeling building inside of him, a worry that takes him back to that staged fight they’ve had in the cafeteria (“ _Maybe you should think about the fact that you constantly feeling me up wherever we go is making me uncomfortable_ ”), but it lasts for all of five seconds and fades to nothing when he looks at Sungyeol. He sees the smirk first, stretching Sungyeol’s lips in such a familiar way, then feels it against his own mouth when he pulls him in for a kiss.

It’s sweet and fills him with warmth all the way to the tips of his fingers, even when Sungyeol starts letting out the most ridiculous sounds and making deliberately loud smacking noises between the kisses, just to spite their youngest friend. Myungsoo’s entire body is shaking with barely suppressed laughter by the time Sungjong counters with fake retching.

“We’re in the middle of the cafeteria, people are staring,” Sunggyu hisses in their direction, and then “Stop that, you’re grossing everyone out” which Myungsoo is unsure whether it was meant for them, Sungjong, or all of the above.

Their fun is cut short and they have to pull away from each other, startled, when something sticky splatters against his face—and Sungyeol’s, he finds out once he opens his eyes and sees his boyfriend mirroring his shock, complete with rice falling off his right cheek.

Sungjong has a spoon held between two fingers and a victorious look on his face.

“Lee Sungjong, you little—“ Sungyeol starts to yell; he thinks better of it and grabs a handful of his own rice. “Oh, it’s _on!”_

One day into officially dating his best friend, Myungsoo gets kicked out of the student cafeteria because of a food fight, and he couldn’t be happier about it.

* * *

“Wait, so you knew they were faking the entire time?”

Dongwoo slaps a hand over his mouth when Woohyun starts hissing and gesturing for him to keep his voice down, but he can’t quite stop gaping at him either. After checking to see that nobody had overheard their discussion, Woohyun’s face relaxes and his shoulders go slack. He shrugs, looking defeated.

“Yeah. I accidentally overheard them discussing the plan like, what, two days after I ‘caught’ them?” he even makes the effort to do air quotes and tops them off with an eyeroll. “You’d think that for a quiet guy and an aspiring actor they’d be better at keeping secrets.”

“Then why—“ Dongwoo remembers to remove his hand, though he keeps his voice lowered. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Well, I thought about it,” he admits, toying with a stray bit of yarn at the hem of his sweater. “But then I got curious to see where they’re going with it and… uh…”

His face changes, and when he lifts his eyes to meet Dongwoo’s he seems almost _ashamed_. Dongwoo makes an inquisitive sound at the back of his throat, but allows his friend the time to gather his wits about him because, clearly, whatever he has to say is difficult to get out. He can’t help but be worried, but tries his best not to let it show as he gives Woohyun his best reassuring smile.

It takes a little waiting but, eventually, he takes a deep breath and says something like “Iaddabathwithohyeah antitodewanttogiveismyknee backflipsdontellim” and Dongwoo’s brain short-circuits.

“What?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“…I had a bet with Hoya, on Myungsoo and Sungyeol getting together, and I won and I didn’t want to give him his money back,” Woohyun bows his head. “I’m sorry, hyung. I know you’re probably disappointed but it was all in good fun,” he looks up again, eyes wide and lip jutting out. “Also, please don’t tell him?”

Dongwoo takes some time to process this without looking away from Woohyun, who is actually pulling off an impressive imitation of Flynn Rider’s smoulder. He could really do with re-watching Tangled one of his days—maybe they could all gather at Sunggyu’s place and watch it together after exams, and hey, Minseok likes Disney too so maybe he could ask if he and Jongdae want to join them and he could call—

“Hyung?”

Oh, right. Woohyun.

He places a comforting hand on the younger’s shoulder. “Woohyun, you know what I think about placing bets on our friends.”

“That… we shouldn’t.”

Dongwoo nods. “And I think it was dishonourable of you to hide this from Hoya so you can keep the money, but I trust you to do the right thing in the end.”

There’s a pause.

“So…” Woohyun starts after a while of them standing awkwardly in that position without saying anything. “Are you… going to tell him?”

“No,” he replies because he may know that telling Hoya would be the right thing, but he’s a sucker when it comes to pleasing his friends. Plus, Woohyun is using the puppy dog eyes and it’s _super effective_.

“It’s not my place to do it, but you really should be honest with him.”

“Thank you, hyung!” he exclaims mid-way through Dongwoo’s sentence, wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug and not giving any indication of having listened to anything beyond ‘no’. “You’re the best.”

Oh well—at least Woohyun gives really good hugs.

* * *

 

To Dongwoo’s credit, he lasts five whole hours before the guilt becomes too much for him to bear and he cracks.

This gives Woohyun—who already figured this might happen because he’s not _stupid_ —more than enough time to gather supplies and barricade himself into the closet until the entire thing is forgotten while Kibum (now 35000 won richer) tries to convince a very pissed off Hoya that he’s not home and actually, he hasn’t been around the entire day and won’t be in until at least tomorrow and “Dude, I hope you don’t plan on hanging around until he’s back because there are certain things I can’t do while Woohyun’s around and one of them is on his way here, so…”

A KakaoTalk notification goes off. Then another, followed by several more.

More accurately, someone’s sending Woohyun messages and—he discovers when he scrambles to put his phone on silent—photos. There’s one in particular of Myungsoo pecking Sungyeol on the cheek while he looks into the camera with an impish smile, captioned ‘ _MyungYeol on their way to steal your Cutest Campus Couple title’_.

“Why are there sounds coming from the closet?”

“Oh, so _that’s_ where I put my phone.” _Nice,_ Kibum.

“…Your phone’s in your hand.”

“Ah, well… “ the closet doors are yanked open. “It was nice knowing you, Woohyun!”

All Woohyun can think as he’s staring death in the face at such a young age is _Fucking MyungYeol_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment, [tweet me](https://twitter.com/tiredangryegg), if you wanna hit me.
> 
> (I'm kidding, please don't hit me)


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